We Are Unafraid
by raenbc
Summary: Follows Georgia from "Red Eye", Jeremy from "The Golem" and Logan from "Toy Train" as they become fast friends. Drawn together by dreams of their past, they face the sometimes frightening reality of their present. Mainly deals with the characters and (married) couples from those episodes, but I might branch out depending on feedback. Warning inside.
1. Take Warning

**Hey Haunting Hour fans! As requested by fantomdranzerx and thehauntinghourrecap of tumblr. here is my story for R.L. Stine's The Haunting Hour: The Series. I'm really gonna miss the show, especially as someone who grew up watching Goosebumps. (And my brother had a whole shelf worth of the books.) I don't think I've ever written anything with a creepy vibe to it, and I feel the need to put a WARNING on it just for that reason. There will be some dark themes, but my stories are always about finding the bright side. I hope you enjoy! **

**I do not own The Haunting Hour**

12/25/13

The jaws of a snappy Pomeranian couldn't keep up with the flock of chirping birds that came to greet the morning. They effortlessly flew out of reach, fluttering about among the perfectly hedged shrubbery. A trademark of the neighborhood. They hovered over a smoothly paved pathway that led to a glossy wooden door with a gold mail slot. One particularly chipper bird perched on a window of the house his flock had found. He took a moment to rest, and enjoy the peacefulness. For a moment was all he was allowed.

Terrified screams sent the birds' world spinning. They scattered immediately. As they rushed away, footsteps hurriedly approached a bedroom on the second floor. The door was jammed, so it jiggled ferociously while the anguished cries went on.

"Daddy! DADDY!" Pairs of porcelain eyes stared at the girl screaming in her sleep. Her cries drowned out the sound of the three ticking clocks on the wall, that were set to different times. With one strong push, her bedroom door opened with such force it left a dent in the wall, and sent a small lamp to the floor.

The bright colored bedspread was so dissonant to the girl writhing beneath it. She'd found such a dark place hidden in what was supposed to be sanctuary. And it wasn't the first time. Her father shook her free of her nightmare. His empathy for her made him disregard being gentle about it.

"Georgia, wake up!" He shouted into a mess of her auburn hair, which stuck to her reddened face because of all the hot tears that stained it.

Within seconds, she settled as she stirred. He sighed as she caught her breath. While she wiped her wide eyes and set her focus on him, he spotted his concerned wife in the doorway. "Daddy?" Georgia asked. Still somewhat scared and unsure.

Her breathing steadied, and he kneeled down at her bedside.

"It's me," He said soothingly, making sure to lower his voice before he spoke next. "I promise, it's really me. We're safe."

* * *

Even a traditional Sunday breakfast didn't look appetizing to Georgia. Not because her mother served it to her on a Wednesday, but because it was nigh impossible to eat while her nightmares lingered. She knew they weren't real. She knew her father had fought back, but imagination seemed to be a bigger monster than anything he'd faced before.

"Eat up, you wanna be well energized for your first day of _high school._ " Monica said excitedly. With no acknowledgement of what had just taken place less than half an hour before.

Georgia nodded, forcing herself to eat. "I know, Mom. Thanks."

"So, are you excited?" Monica asked her daughter, after she served her husband and took a seat.

"Not really." Georgia answered once she swallowed. She felt like she was drinking paint.

"Are you nervous?" Monica asked worriedly, while she cut herself a piece of ham.

"Not really." A near perfect echo. _I just hope I survive_. It was a grim thought, not a joking one. Expected after where Georgia's dreams led her. She focused on eating, hoping to forget all that.

"Okay, well..." The woman searched her mind for something encouraging, but it didn't come out that way. "try to make friends."

"Georgia shouldn't have any trouble with that." Sam cut in before his daughter had the chance to speak for herself.

Monica swallowed a sigh along with her ham. "I just meant..." She directed her glance at her daughter and finished her thought. "good luck."

"Thanks." Georgia said again, finishing up her food. In trying to look on the bright side, she'd basically inhaled breakfast. She took her new backpack-embroidered with common foreign phrases-off the back of her chair and slid it on, heading upstairs to brush her teeth. When she returned, she found her parents holding hands across the table, which was nice to see. They spoke in whispers, but not playful ones, which was hurtful to hear. So, she pretended not to. "Okay, I'm heading out."

"Have a good day, Sweetie." Sam wished. He and Georgia were in sync, and he knew she'd rather just move on from the morning. On her own.

Monica on the other hand, was feeling guilty about how she handled the situation before. "You sure you don't want me to drive you?"

"No, it's fine." Georgia dismissed. "I gotta get used to walking to school. That's what I got up early for." She sent her parents a smile and went on her way. They mirrored that grin until the door closed.

"It was the nightmares that woke her." Monica mumbled. "I thought she was past this whole... monster fiasco. It's been at least a year, hasn't it?"

"Maybe it's first day jitters." Sam reasoned, not wanting his wife to worry any more than she already was.

She tried her best to hide a scoff. "She said she wasn't nervous."

"Consciously, she isn't." Sam agreed. "but, subconsciously..." There had to be some explanation for why the nightmares resurfaced. At least enough of one to get Monica to stop asking questions.

She looked like she was on the verge of tears. "That... this morning... was worse than any other time." In part, because the door now needed fixing. Though there was an underlying fear Sam' words hadn't soothed, and they all knew it. "I feel so bad about not listening to her," Monica admitted. "but it turned out to be nothing more than her imagination."

In answer, Sam poured his wife a cup of espresso. As he set it down, he said: "We have a very special girl. And we don't have to worry about her. She can take care of herself."

Sam walked upstairs, and stood in his daughter's doorway. The bed had been left unmade. His eyes scanned the room as they glazed over. All the souvenirs given to Georgia when he returned from his travels-which he'd long since taken a break from-were neatly lined up in front of her world map.

Even the one of the German girl in lederhosen, that had been smashed with a hammer and glued back together. Seeing that, he knew what he said to Monica was more of a wish than a fact.

* * *

Lunchtime rolled around, and Georgia had an honest appetite back. The only notable thing she thought she'd done was impress her geography teacher, but nobody was calling her a teacher's pet for it. Not that she would mind. She seemed to get on better with adults anyway. It showed in that she didn't have many friends her own age she managed to keep. Most of them had moved away and lost touch. Either that, or they changed completely by the time they got to junior high. Georgia wasn't exactly happy to lose touch with that group, but they weren't the same people. It was as if she never knew them.

Georgia wasn't looking to make new friends, even though her mother had encouraged that and her father thought it would be no sweat. At the moment, she was just curious what was on the menu. In all the commotion, her mom had forgotten to pack cold lunch. She settled for grilled cheese. By the looks of it, the sandwich should've been labeled nuked cheese instead. It was painfully obvious it'd just been stuck in a microwave. Georgia braved herself to take a bite. (That didn't take much mustering. Not after the things she'd seen.) By the taste of it, the sandwich should've been called nuked plastic. Once again, she ate anyway. Nursing her meal this time.

While her mouth solely focused on eating, her eyes wandered. The other students sat in groups, but some were a lot less stereotypical than others. She smiled when she saw a girl decked out in pink-with a pocketbook big enough to house her neighbor Mrs. Edson's Pomeranian- sitting with a boy who was fascinated by something on the slide under his microscope. She found herself giggling quietly when the girl took a look. Her response to whatever she saw, was to kiss the boy on the cheek. Georgia didn't get to finish surveying the area, because she felt a presence in front of her.

At first, she didn't get a good look at the boy's face. His glance was directed at her backpack, which was taking up a seat he probably wished to sit in, considering he had a plate of the same nuked plastic she was muddling through. (Students had claimed the rest of the chairs around Georgia's table before she even got there. She could tell by how crowded the other tables were.) The boy seemed preoccupied with reading the words etched on her backpack, but only for a moment. Then he looked up, and sent her a cheery yet nervous smile.

"Hey." She greeted casually, wondering if he was new to the school, like her. He'd been wondering something, too.

"I thought you might be an exchange student." Judging by her backpack. He hoped that didn't sound ignorant. Thankfully, her dismissal of that was as casual as her greeting.

"Nah, just... worldly I guess. And just a freshman." She wasn't sure he wanted to hear the whole story. Or, at least, the one her and her father gave as cover. She didn't find her status all that interesting, and doubted he would.

The boy countered her doubt with a compliment. "Sick." He gave another signature smile. Hearing the word, Georgia let out another giggle. This one was so quiet it didn't even register in his ears. "Me too, by the way. My dad and I are new in town."

The typical reaction might be to ask where he was from, but Georgia was caught up in something else. The way this boy spoke of his father, his tone mirrored the wonder in his eyes. It made her think of her relationship with her father, and the amount of adoration there. Just by listening, she could tell this boy could relate. What she couldn't tell, was that was something new for him.

Her eyes drifted momentarily to underneath the table, and she saw him shifting in his skate shoes. For a second, she was captivated by all the colors. They were gray on top, with blue laces that seemed to be triple-knotted. The sides were mainly black complemented by purple, with white and red accents. Somehow, it all worked together. She was about to compliment the shoes, but then she remembered why her glance traveled there in the first place. He was probably tired of standing. "Have a seat." She invited.

He did as he was told, as if the offer was an order. A reflex that was difficult to rid himself of.

She didn't notice, especially with how he sounded. She wondered if her mother would want to trade children, given how earnestly excited he was. Excited and-as she would soon see-very polite. "So, what's your name?" He sounded fascinated to hear the answer even though he'd only just asked the question. (This is when she got her first good look at him. Light brown hair lazily sculpted with gel, and eyes she guessed were green. His face was sprinkled with faint beauty marks.)

"Georgia." She supplied automatically. "Georgia Lomin."

He found this slightly amusing, like he saw it coming. "The worldly girl named Georgia." It was funny, now that she thought about it, and she was glad he hadn't been expecting something more exotic. "I'm Logan Frost." He said, extending his hand. A behavior he'd been taught, and one she felt refreshed to see as well as reciprocate. They shook. Silence fell for a second, while Logan thought of another question. "You like football?"

That was something else refreshing. She was a petite girl, with her hair back in braids she made herself. Her room was full of porcelain dolls, though he had no way of knowing that. Another more obvious fact? She was all of 5''1', and he wanted to know if she liked football. "Yeah, sure." She didn't just shrug it off, she was completely serious.

He gave another grin, to reflect hers, and rattled off another question. "Model trains?"

The surprises just kept coming. She'd never met a jock who liked model trains. Not until Logan, who stuttered through some of his sentences. That was another thing that surprised her, thanks to stereotypes. She rolled with it anyway, answering: "Of course." To be honest, she liked model anything. Airplanes, cars, even dollhouses. If those counted as model houses.

"Do you skateboard?" That was something she expected to hear from someone wearing shoes like his.

She shook her head, disappointed in herself. Just when they started to find common ground, they were losing it. "No, but I want to."

"I could teach you sometime." He offered.

"Awesome." She said gratefully. "Probably the only thing I can teach you about is geography. My mailman says I'm good at it, and apparently my teacher agrees."

Logan raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You're tight with your mailman? Cool. And I'd love to learn about geography, I can barely read a map." He admitted this sheepishly, but she didn't see it as anything to be embarrassed about. Most people their age couldn't. She was happy to hear that he didn't find that geeky. Or maybe he did, but he just didn't care. It seemed to fascinate him anyway. So, it was settled. They had something to teach each other **.**

* * *

"Working on homework?" Logan looked up from his desk at the sound of his father's voice. He could see how the notebook and pen would give off that vibe.

"None today." He informed happily. Hank Frost moved one of the handles of his aviator sunglasses back and forth between his thumb and pointer finger. His son was glad to see that his well-worked hands weren't shaking with nervousness, but instead relaxed. Hank's mood brightened even more with that information. "In that case, wanna come with while I visit potential clients?"

 _Potential clients already_? Logan thought. _That was fast_. Things were going well for the both of them. "Absolutely." Logan answered enthusiastically. Though his father was in no rush, he raced to the black pickup truck in the driveway.

When Hank got in, he asked: "So, how was your day?" Once he made sure Logan remembered to put on his seatbelt.

"Great," That's what Hank liked to hear. He wanted to say so-since his son couldn't see his smile because he was facing the road-but he also didn't want to interrupt. He had done more than enough of that in the past.

"I met this girl, Georgia. I'm gonna teach her how to skateboard and she's gonna teach me about geography." So much seemed strange about what his son was telling him. He knew by his tone that he already considered Georgia a genuine friend, but he was talking so fast. As if the words would escape him if he didn't chase after them. This deal they made didn't seem fair. He had no clue Logan was interested in geography. (Sure, it was instinct for him to explore, but he never seemed to care where he was going.) Realizing that ashamed Hank. He felt like he was sitting next to a stranger. Until he felt that stranger's eyes on him. "She's really close with her dad, too."

Hank hadn't expected to hear that either, but it was heartwarming. "That's wonderful." He couldn't help but interject. As his son's kind words echoed in his head, the shame he felt subsided.

"Yeah." Logan agreed, though he was silenced for a moment by a memory. "He used to travel to all kinds of places. They'd write letters and he'd bring her back souvenirs." Logan thought his dad might comment on that, since letter writing seemed like a lost art.

Instead, he asked: "How come he doesn't travel anymore?"

"I don't know," Logan answered after a pause. He hadn't thought to ask, and didn't see anything wrong with not asking. He could tell his father didn't either, despite how naturally curious they both were. "maybe she just… missed him too much." That was something they could relate to.

When Hank pulled up to the house where his potential clients lived, Logan was surprised by the elegance of it. It didn't look like a place that needed any work done. If he were a contractor, he wouldn't want to take a job in the house and mess with the classic feel of it.

"You wanna ring the bell or should I?" Hank asked, thinking for most that would be a pointless question. He knew his son had a thing for pushing buttons. A childlike sort of appreciation for it. In response, Logan gladly took the opportunity. The homeowners answered the door, and he suddenly felt underdressed.

Hank was dressed for work, but the couple looked like they were going out somewhere, in semi-formal attire. "Hi," The woman said. "you must be Hank." He nodded as she went on. "I'm Kerry and this is my husband, Paul."

Hank shook their hands, and then nodded in Logan's direction. He was already following suit. "This is my son, Logan."

Kerry smiled, opening the door and ushering the Frosts in. "Ah, the more the merrier."

In Logan's opinion, Paul didn't look like he agreed. Expressions of disapproval were easiest for him to spot. Regardless, the man didn't voice his thoughts. Nor did he speak to Logan directly. Instead, he made a side comment to his wife. "He looks to be about Jeremy's age."

Kerry nodded. "Our son would've been at the high school today, but he's been getting over a bad cold and we figured he could use one more day off."

Once again, Logan found himself looking at Paul. The man seemed to be wondering why Kerry brought up any other business besides what they wanted to be done to the house. Hank, however, just said: "Well, we hope he gets well soon."

"Oh, thank you." She said, holding up a platter of crackers, cheese, and snacks of that nature. "Here, have some." She gestured to one side of the plate and said: "This side's kosher if you have a preference. If either of you are lactose intolerant there's soy cheese in the fridge. There's also gluten free stuff-"

"Kerry, I'm sure they'll find something they like." Paul insisted. He didn't mean to be rude, but he had his priorities. He directed his glance to the Frosts and said: "There's drinks in the fridge, too, Make yourselves at home." He focused his glance on Hank, and gestured toward the French doors that led to the dining room. "Let's talk." The two men went that way, and Kerry debated whether or not to watch over Logan. He didn't seem like he needed that, but 'make yourself at home' could be lethal advice for a naturally curious explorer that lately attracted danger.

* * *

Logan overheard Paul and Kerry dish out compliments to his dad about the work in his portfolio. None of the words seemed forced. What started out as a business meeting was turning into a luncheon with a favor tacked on to it. He listened as they discussed knocking down a wall to make more room. For what, he didn't know. Especially since he happened to walk by a room that was practically empty. Apart from-as far as he knew-a few old photos. For a second he couldn't help staring, wondering who the people were. The apparent age of the pictures had him doubting they were around to tell him themselves. He decided he might not ever know, and tried to shrug it off.

He just enjoyed the scenery, taking in every inch of the house. Not long ago, he would've made his father angry with this behavior. He knew it wasn't exactly appropriate, but he couldn't help wandering.

After awhile, he was no longer walking aimlessly. He was trying to find a bathroom. He had just reached the second floor landing when he heard a sneeze. "Bless you." He said. Only after did he realize how weird it must've sounded, being spoken by an unfamiliar voice.

Which stood to reason why the answer came out like a question. "Thank you." Logan figured Paul and Kerry's son was given a heads up about the visit, because he only sounded confused. Not startled.

Logan approached the other boy's door as a few more sneezes were heard-about to kindly ask to be directed to the bathroom-when something caught his eye. A handwritten sign on the bottom of a packing slip, in what Logan could only call a language other than English.

 _карантин_

Underneath that was an arrow and a note that read: _Jeremy,_

 _I know that college kids are supposed to have packages sent to them and not the other way around, but I guess I've gone soft on you since you resorted to faking sick to avoid high school. I know everyone else is so used to you being an angel and thinks this is legit, but trust me, it's not the end of the world. If I'm still here, you'll be just fine. I can't believe I'm rewarding you for being 'sick' though. Even I'm under your spell now, and I thought I was the only one immune to it. Enjoy the cookies. And the book._

 _Love,_

 _Bonnie_

 _(P.S. Good luck not going insane being in quarantine. I made you a sign for it. In Russian, too! Gotta love college.)_

Even though his eyes could be as fast as his feet when he made the effort, Logan thought he might be startling Jeremy by that point. Since he'd wished him well and said nothing else, but could probably be sensed standing there. Though Jeremy was still too sick to take notice. "Sorry to bother you, but can you tell me where your bathroom is?"

"It's no bother." Jeremy assured nasally, from the other side of the door. He then gave directions. Logan gave thanks, and went on his way. As he walked, he wondered what Georgia was up to.

* * *

A few wrong turns made Georgia's walk home take longer than she'd hoped. She couldn't believe she managed to get even a little lost considering her great sense of direction, but she was glad for the mixup when she spotted a familiar face. "Hey, Tim."

"Georgia!" Her mailman greeted, apparently surprised. "I didn't expect to see you today. How was your first day back?"

"I made a friend." She reported proudly.

"That's great. I bet your mom will be happy about that."

That was an understatement. "She'll probably throw a party." Georgia didn't sound seethingly sarcastic, but Tim figured she could use a little bit of humor to lift her mood anyway.

"If she does, don't forget to invite your new friend."

* * *

Once the initial plans had been made, Hank and the Alastars were just sitting around chatting. A twenty minute meeting was going on two hours. Logan joined them at the table. Though he didn't have much to contribute to the conversation, he was still having a good time. When the hosts went to get more food. he turned to his dad wearing a wide grin.

"You made friends."

Although the man had only just realized that himself, he seemed insulted by the comment. "Yes, that can happen for old people, too." He saw his son's face drop, but not for the reason he thought.

"You're not old." Logan insisted.

"Nice save there, son." Hank said, packing up his portfolio.

"I mean it." Logan told him. It wasn't a save, since he hadn't called him old to begin with. "And you've got me beat." He pointed out. Not hurt, but proud.

Though he must not've sounded as happy as he thought, because his father said: "Don't get discouraged, it was only your first day." _Don't get discouraged._ Those words held so much value to Logan. He couldn't remember hearing things like that often. Not until recently. He smiled as he felt his father's hand on his shoulder.

Paul and Kerry returned with a few things they fetched from the fridge. "This has all been so nice." Hank told them. "We'll have to have you over to eat soon." That seemed like a fair way to repay them for their hospitality, and they were certainly up for it. Before they had the chance to answer, the group heard footsteps on the stairs.

Jeremy wasn't prepared for an audience of four, thinking the Frosts had left. As he entered the room. all eyes were on him.

His dark hair redefined the term bedhead, and his brown eyes were so bloodshot they could send chills down a vampire's spine. His runny red nose could give Rudolph a run for his money, along with a feeling of disgust. Despite how he looked, he was doing much better. At the moment, embarrassment was the only thing that pained him.

" _Perfect_ timing." Paul joked, reinforcing Logan's theory that they had very different ideas of funny. He had a feeling the other boy was mortified, even though he didn't look anything but sick.

"Aw, Jeremy." Kerry cooed as he made attempts to fix his hair and clean his nose again, thinking he felt worse physically and emotionally. He saw her fiddle with her bracelet, trying not to let herself get too worried.

"Hey, you stopped sneezing." Logan knew he was pointing out the obvious, but he seemed to not have control of his mouth at the moment. Jeremy didn't mind the comment. He was used to that sort of thing from his sister. He gave a slight nod, trying to remember why he came downstairs in the first place. Even though his body was gaining strength, his mind was foggy. His dreams that day had been filled with scenes of another time and place. It felt so distant. but once he found himself back there he started to feel healthy again.

Jeremy managed a faint smile, and quietly cleared his throat. He turned to his mother and asked: "Do we have any orange juice left?"

"Yeah, I'll go get it for you." She said, running to the kitchen before anyone could disagree with that. At that moment, Paul thought of a question he'd forgotten to ask Hank. The two had barely begun discussing it when Logan made his way to the doorway, where Jeremy still stood.

Hank interrupted himself to ask his son: "What're you doing?" In a much less stern tone than he'd been used to hearing.

In an uncharacteristically smooth movement, Logan walked backwards while he replied: "Living dangerously." Hank knew this was a joke. His son made the choice to live dangerously only once before, and almost ended up dead because of that.

"Hey, I'm Logan." His extended hand was snubbed this time, since Jeremy folded his hands behind his back. Though this was a caution, and-like him monitoring his breathing to make sure that was only done through his nose-it wasn't seen as mean. "We go to school together."

That was somewhat of a relief to hear, given the treatment Jeremy had been given at his previous schools. Not that he was ever vocal about that. His cold kept him from being vocal about the things that made him smile.

For Logan, his smile said enough. He left Jeremy to his orange juice, and joined his dad to say goodbye to the Alastars. He knew it wouldn't be long until he saw them again, but hoped Jeremy would be back to feeling one hundred percent very soon.

* * *

The Lomins seemed too busy to discuss the day, which worked out best for Georgia. She hadn't sorted out the story for herself. Why was it that she broke her own promise, and made a friend she was sure she'd eventually lose? She'd lived in one place her entire life. Logan had moved a handful of times. With her history, she expected him to leave soon enough.

She tried to tell herself it was bound to happen, but she didn't want to accept that. She tried to focus her thoughts elsewhere, but the only other thing she could think about was what woke her that morning.

Knuckles tapped lightly at her door. She wanted to turn toward the source of the sound, but her eyes didn't move from the mirror. Her reflection seemed underfed and overtired with hollow, angry features. Sam appeared beside her with a glass of warm milk. "I thought this might help you sleep." He said softly. She took the milk thankfully, but set it down on her bedside table. "Goodnight, Sweetie." He knew she wouldn't say it back unless she meant it, but she had to say something. She never gave him the silent treatment. Even though he knew what was bothering her, he wanted to hear it for himself.

"What if it was a warning?"

She spoke these words without looking at her father, as if she couldn't bear to. She'd almost lost him once already, and the nightmares seemed to mean that would happen again.

Sam's soothing tone was gone, though easing Georgia's mind was still the goal. He lowered his voice again, taking into account that Monica might be listening. "This patient of mine wasn't of the most sound mind, but I think she knew she lost the fight."

His answer didn't satisfy Georgia. She sat at the edge of her bed, biting her lip as she forced herself to think back to the night he came back from Berlin. And then back a little further. She found herself shaking her head. "While you were in Berlin, I had the first nightmare. Tim was attacked in it. And I didn't do anything but scream. I thought… if that thing ever really got close to me, that it would be different." It hadn't been. Just like in the nightmare, she screamed. And her father had to save himself. "After it was over, the nightmares just reminded me of the mistake I made."

"You didn't do anything wrong, Georgia." Sam could hear the edge in her voice before she even spoke again.

"I didn't do anything to help you."

Sam wasn't going to let his daughter put herself on another guilt trip, or let fear shut her down again. He remembered how she let the mail pile up for weeks after he returned. Scared to even go near it. She wouldn't pose for pictures either. She punished herself for awhile, barely talking or eating, and she stayed up in the room that hosted her nightmares. "You want to place blame? _I'_ m the one that lied." He reminded her.

"To protect us." Georgia reasoned.

"And look how that turned out." Now he saw where she got that attitude from. He sighed and sat down with her. "The important thing is, once I quit my job everything quieted down." That was supposed to be reassuring. To Georgia, it meant threats still lingered. They just played dead for awhile to make for easy prey.

"What if things start to go bump in the night again?" She was trying to make light of the situation, but that didn't make her stress any less.

"I'll be better prepared than last time, because I'm here with you." To add to his reassurance, Sam gave her a kiss on the forehead and got up to leave. He made it to the doorway before Georgia replied.

"I don't want you to be prepared." Ideally, she wanted the nightmares to be nothing but a fading glimpse of a rough time her father wouldn't have to face ever again. Instead of a look into the future. "If this happens again, I want _us_ to be prepared." She looked toward the door, at the room across the hall. Where her mother was most likely sitting up in bed, doing paperwork. "All of us."

Instead of arguing, Sam simply nodded. Hoping he wouldn't have to prepare his girls for anything like what haunted Georgia's dreams.

Georgia fell asleep in minutes and didn't need nightmares to make her restless. Something else kept her awake. Opening her eyes, she saw that she'd been asleep for less than half and hour. Her thoughts drifted to the glass of milk her father brought her, which was only half empty. She figured she better finish it. It was only a matter of time before it went sour. She swore she could already smell it going bad, but knew not enough time had gone by for that. Yet when she picked up the glass, she found the milk completely curdled. She gagged at the sight, and went to wash the glass out in the sink. Her main focus was cleansing it thoroughly. She didn't dwell on how impossible it was for the milk to sour so fast,

And she didn't take it as a bad omen…

 **Thanks for reading, PLEASE REVIEW!**

 **For those who are wondering, I only made up Jeremy and his parents' last name. The adults' given names aren't listen in the credits, but they are spoken. I wasn't sure on the spelling of Kerry. Or Carrie, I honestly couldn't even tell. But I went with Kerry and I hope that's cool. Alastar has meaning for Jeremy's character.**

 **Let me know if there are any spelling/grammar/phrasing mistakes. I'm always open to ideas. I'll update ASAP! For those who read my other stuff, don't worry. I'm still in the process of updating. I haven't forgotten about you.**

 **I have the next few chapters of written, but they're longer. Let me know if you'd rather I separate those. See ya next update, my lovely readers! =]**


	2. A Skip in the Score

**Here's chapter 2 my lovely readers. It's been awhile since I revisited it, so I might even get new ideas as I'm editing. Have you guys seen the Goosebumps movie trailer? If you have, feel free to let me know your thoughts.**

 **This chapter is dedicated to fantomdranzerx of tumblr.**

 **Fair WARNING, the creepy gets upped in this chapter. Especially with the flashback to "Red Eye", because I came up with my own ending for it. A little graphic, too.**

 **Anyway, enjoy!**

 **I do not own The Haunting Hour. Or SpongeBob SquarePants.**

The bathroom mirror framed Jeremy's face, which had regained color. He went about his personal hygiene as he digested breakfast. All his first day preparations were mundane tasks, but they seemed to take up so much energy. He wondered where the strength he felt the previous day had gone, along with the boost breakfast was supposed to give. He polished the smile he put on by brushing his teeth for the second time that morning, and headed for the front door.

His feet didn't take him there. The frame of the open door he stood beneath led to what could be perceived as a guest room. Had it not been for his dreams the previous afternoon, he might've walked right by. The minty green walls were inviting, but no one had stepped foot in there for some time. That he knew of.

Some impulse made Jeremy reach for the lightswitch, but he didn't need to make use of it. His feet inched across the empty floor, standing in the shadow of where a bed used to be. In his mind, he could hear the beeps of a hospital grade heart rate monitor. The sound stayed at a steady pace, but seemed to jostle him. That incessant noise attacked him, and he found himself wishing something he would never dare to in the days before the monitor was taken out of the room. He wished it would just stop.

Footsteps on the staircase signaled a rescue. He shifted his focus to that sound, and turned to find the source of it. He wound up face to face with his father. Suddenly he felt sick again, and his most prominent memory of the previous day was Paul's teasing. At that moment, he expected criticism. _You've already missed a day. Don't be late for your second one._ Jeremy was glad not to have his expectations met.

"I miss her, too." The quiver in his voice had Jeremy absolutely astounded. He couldn't remember the last time he saw his father get emotional. He could tell he was gearing up to tell him something. Paul sharing stories was another rarity, "She was never afraid to state her opinion. When it came to me, that was probably because she thought the things she said were less offensive in languages I couldn't understand." Jeremy's eyes sparked as he continued to be astonished by what he heard. "I didn't connect with her the way you did. I don't think anyone did," Paul quickly revised. "but I know she always tried to do the right thing. Even when she was angry, and with me that happened often." Jeremy found this funny, but a laugh didn't leave his lips. He knew talks like this weren't common, and he didn't want to be the reason this one stopped. There was a hitch, regardless of his silence. "If it wasn't for her…" Paul trailed off, realizing what he was about to say hadn't even been shared with Kerry. He locked eyes with Jeremy and urged himself to go on. "I would've never asked Mom to marry me."

" _What_?" Utter disbelief stopped Jeremy from holding his tongue. Somedays, he thought he could be convinced his father was heartless. If it wasn't for the way he treated his mother. How could he ever have debated letting that feeling go?

"Us being together, it was difficult for a lot of reasons." He didn't want to go into why, though it was clear his son wondered. And what he didn't wonder, he already knew. Paul wanted him to focus on the positive. "Nana reminded me that nothing worth it ever comes easily." Staying positive was a challenge with the thought and tears that followed. "I should've thanked her," Hushed sobs from the both of them filled in a pause. Paul found himself smiling through what he said next. "She was so sweet, but still… _tough_." He stressed, making sure his glance didn't move from his son's eyes. "Just like you."

Though his jaw didn't full-on drop, Jeremy knew he was just standing there with his mouth open. Words seemed to dry up at the corners of it. The most he could manage was to draw those corners up into a smile that mirrored the one his father wore.

* * *

The pickup was parked across the street from school, so Hank and Logan would have a moment to talk without holding people up. "Do you have everything?"

Logan nodded, but ran through a checklist anyway. He saw that his dad was just trying to be helpful. He looked in his backpack and said: "Notebook, pen, lunch." Nothing else was needed yet, since none of the teachers had given assignments. So far, he'd only signed class contracts, filled out an emergency card and had his dad sign a paper saying he was cleared to use the internet and watch R rated movies.

"Lunch?" Hank echoed.

"I can't stomach the stuff from the cafeteria." Logan said, as if he still had the taste of an excuse for grilled cheese on his tongue.

"Alright, I'd pay about the same either way." As long as he was eating. That's what mattered.

"Don't worry about that, Dad. I'm gonna get a job."

Surprise sparked a laugh from Hank, but he was impressed, too. "Glad to hear it, son." He was happy to have that plan, and the only drawback was that it meant they would have less time to spend together.

Logan noticed the crowd of students heading inside was thickening. "I guess I've gotta go."

"I'll pick you up later?" Agreement should've been automatic. Especially since their time together was so valuable. As much as Logan wanted to make sure that wasn't taken for granted, he had a friend who walked to and from school. Alone.

"If it's alright, could I walk home with Georgia?"

So many questions. Hank found himself trying to ask all of them. "Do you know the way well enough?"

"No," His son admitted, trying not to be embarrassed about that. "but I'm sure she does. Geography genius, remember?"

"How far away does this _geography genius_ live from us?" That was said jokingly, not mockingly.

"I'm not sure." Logan stammered.

Hank knew that tone. Guilty. In his view, there was nothing to feel guilty about. "Couldn't I pick you both up? Not today, but once I meet her parents?"

"She likes walking. Look, Dad, I'm sorry I brought it up, okay? I'll see you later." He reached for the door handle, but his fingers were fumbling as much as his mouth. He thought it best to leave before he said anything to make things worse.

"Hold on." Hank ordered. Something he hadn't done in awhile. His son snapped to attention. "Logan, there's nothing to be sorry for." The man scoffed at himself. "I should be glad I'm saving gas, I'll see you at home." He sent his son a smile, so he would know he wasn't simply submitting. He was allowing them a little distance, since that didn't mean the relationship they had to work for would be destroyed.

They both got out of the truck, and hugged goodbye. Logan could see someone mocking him for this, pointing and laughing from across the street. Even that student's friends didn't back him up on those actions, and Logan wondered what he got out of having that attitude. Along with what led to it. Once again, he realized he might not ever find out. Dealing with that was becoming increasingly difficult. Another thought crossed his mind mid-hug, so he forgot about that for a bit.

"Hey, Dad?"

"Hmm?"

"You know where I thought we'd live?"

"By the train tracks." There was no question about it.

"Mm-hm." Logan confirmed. "I had a dream I was back there last night. On your old stomping grounds."

Hank had forgiven himself for what happened there, but it still wasn't easy for him to look back on it. Oddly, it wasn't easy for Logan either. Even though that trip was the reason they were so close. He felt an obligation to say something about the dream, though. It felt wrong not to share it. Hank was thankful to have that communication, but at the moment he could do without the memories. So, he told his son: "I know we both made a lot of progress there. That can happen here, too. New place, new adventures."

Logan grinned at being given a good thought to keep in mind. He ran with it, hoping he wouldn't be late.

* * *

"Who's that for?" Georgia couldn't help asking about the folding chair Logan was holding, She hoped he didn't find this rude, because she didn't even greet him first. His smile told her he didn't find that rude at all.

"Me."

Her eyebrows knit together, and she pointed to the chair across from her with her foot, though she knew he couldn't see that. "Is something wrong with that one?"

He shook his head. "But this one's kinda wobbly. That's okay though. I'm kinda wobbly, so I'll balance it out." Georgia laughed lightly. Everything Logan said seemed to prove that he was a strange case. Especially his self-deprecating humor. As much as she liked this, she wasn't expecting a change in seating arrangements. Though other students looked used to that, as she noticed a few of them were mingling at their crowded tables.

"Who's gonna sit there, then?" She asked, opening the sandwich bag that was packed in her lunchbox. On cue, Jeremy came into the cafeteria. Georgia watched him walk to the lunch line. Logan followed her glance and found himself grinning with relief. "You know that guy?" She asked quietly, as if she was cautious that the boy had super-sensitive hearing.

"Barely," Logan replied honestly. "his parents are my dad's latest clients."

Surprise swept through Georgia's expression. "How'd he find new clients so quick?"

He shrugged. "I'm just happy he has success here, too." She was beginning to wonder whether she asked too many questions, or he didn't ask enough. He brought his chair next to hers, but kept a reasonable distance in between. "What're you eating?" His words hadn't lost that tone of intrigue, and she doubted they ever would when it came to their conversations.

"A BLT on whole wheat bread." By her tone, he could tell she have a love/hate relationship with the sandwich. She loved what was between the bread, and hated the bread itself. The reason her lunch came out the way it did was because her mom insisted on packing it for her.

"Sounds good to me." He told her. Proving he knew not all of it sounded good to her.

"What about you?" She asked. As long as he was showing interest in her lunch, she might as well do the same.

"This." He said, in a casual tone that completely undersold what was in the container he uncovered. Bowtie pasta with a variety of chopped up meats, cheeses and vegetables. It looked closer to something off a cooking show rather than a cold school lunch. "I made it last night. It tastes better cold."

"Are you serious?" With that, there was no doubt for Georgia that she was her mother's daughter. Those words were paired up with a scoff of disbelief she tried to quiet.

Logan nodded, paying no mind to that. "I couldn't deal with _that_ again." He nodded in the direction of the lunch line and then finished his thought. "That's why the portion's so big. I wasn't sure if you'd have your own lunch. Figured you could pick what you liked from here. You still can, if you want."

"Thanks, but no thanks." She really wanted to take him up on that offer, but couldn't let her own food go to waste. The nod he gave her then was weaker than usual. He wasn't insulted because he knew what she was thinking, but he'd hoped she would sample the pasta salad so he'd have an idea what kind of cook he was. He hadn't had a lot of practice at it. He picked up a forkful at the same time Georgia took the first bite of her sandwich.

Jeremy-who had just reached their table-didn't realize this. "May I sit here?" He asked. Georgia held up her pointer finger, signaling for him to wait until she finished chewing. Logan gulped down his mouthful, practically choking. Seeing this, Jeremy felt his father had a right to crack jokes about his _perfect_ timing.

As soon as her mouth was empty, Georgia spoke. Getting her words out quicker than Logan, who had to recover from his attempt to answer fast. "Where else are you gonna sit, on the floor?" She wasn't trying to be snarky. She didn't understand how why he would even feel the need to ask to sit in the only chair left in the lunch room. Jeremy didn't understand how to answer, and instead looked to Logan.

To show he knew Georgia was only trying to be nice, he said: "We wouldn't want you to have to do that. Go ahead. Have a seat." Jeremy smiled gratefully, but didn't show his teeth. As he sat, the others' eyes traveled to his tray. They weren't entirely sure what was on it. Neither felt comfortable asking, especially with how reluctant he seemed to eat it. He would rather use his mouth to talk. "Glad to see you're feeling better, Jeremy." Logan's words caused Georgia to worry, since he hadn't had a chance to mention Jeremy wasn't feeling well. "This is Georgia, by the way."

Jeremy's glance switched back to her. "Hey." He held out his hand, thinking she might refuse to shake it after hearing he'd been sick. That action made him remember something. After they shook, he looked back at Logan. Extending his hand again.

He laughed lightly, catching on. "Oh, yeah. You owe me." The two boys shook hands. If Georgia knew Logan better, she might've called the move a nervous tick for him. It looked like he'd touched a hot stove.

Jeremy noticed, and he didn't seem at all surprised. What shocked him, was that he thought aloud. "I don't usually get sick like that."

"Maybe there's something going around." Georgia reasoned. She wasn't sure why she was trying to ease his mind, though that was kind of her.

"Something your immune system's not used to." Logan added. He like the idea of having friends who were worldly. And the picture of health. It could be an enlightening and comfortable experience. "Good news is, you're over it. You look good."

Georgia raised her eyebrows at this. She wasn't sure if it was because she was in agreement-unable to picture him looking bad-or because of how easily that awkward sentence rolled of Logan's tongue. "Thank you." Jeremy replied. His surprise had nothing to do with who said that, but the fact that it was said at all.

"What did you look like before?" Georgia asked, humoring both boys. Jeremy had to think on that. Logan could probably explain it better, since he'd actually seen him. Jeremy didn't pay much attention to his reflection on a good day.

"Probably like Squidward when he thought Spongebob was setting the Krusty Krab on fire."

Georgia chuckled. She had been picturing pitiful rather than deraged. She chose to comment on that, rather than how much she loved the older episodes of that cartoon. "That doesn't seem possible for you." She turned to Logan as she picked away at the bread she was holding off on eating. "Is that really how it was?" Jeremy seemed so sweet, it was impossible for her to imagine him even looking anything close to crazy.

Logan shrugged. To him a sick kid was a sick kid. And no matter what degree of suffering they were going through, it was always a sad sight for him. It's not that he didn't know how to describe Jeremy's condition, he just didn't want to. But Georgia had asked for his opinion. He tried not to sound like he was belittling his new friend when he finally answered. "I'd say he looked more like a puppy that got caught in the rain."

"Aw." The word was said with both sorrow and delight. "Don't worry; you didn't miss anything." She assured. She felt the need to say so even though Jeremy didn't look disappointed in himself in the slightest. He sent her a relieved smile and took another look at the tray he hadn't touched. He suddenly wished he was still sick. Congestion had made it impossible to taste anything. He swallowed because the food was too soggy to chew, while Georgia thought of something else to say. She turned her attention to Logan again, so she wouldn't have to watch Jeremy struggle through lunch. "If you want, I can start… teaching you this afternoon. Unless you've already had enough school for one day."

Instead of responding quickly, Logan parted the food in his container into two unequal portions. She watched him, knowing the plan he had in mind. He took out the small plastic bowl he'd planned to let Georgia use, and another plastic fork. She smiled approvingly as he scraped the bigger portion into the bowl and slid it gently across the table.

Hearing this, Jeremy's eyes slowly settled on the offering. He was hesitant in taking it, regardless of the quality-or lack thereof-the meal he paid for. "I wanna be an athlete, but I don't eat like one." Logan explained.

Georgia nodded in agreement, speaking in a somewhat dry manner. "He made this culinary masterpiece with the intent of sharing."

Logan's eyebrows raised. He was impressed along with flattered. "When you say that, it makes me sound smart and talented."

She shot him a look he couldn't decipher, considering they'd only known each other a short time. "When you say _that_ it sounds like you don't think you're smart _or_ talented." Her tone was meant to tell him he'd better change his thinking. Logan only got in a blink before the other boy decided to switch lunches. "How does it taste?" Georgia asked, with a hint of curiosity that was overshadowed by how set she was on boosting Logan's confidence.

Jeremy's quiet, calm register did not take away from the impact of his reply. "Like genius and creativity had a delicious baby."

Georgia felt she was in danger of making bacon bits with that comment, and held in her laughter while Logan beamed appreciatively. "Thanks." Almost immediately, the usual enthusiasm in his voice-that Georgia had already become accustomed to-was gone. "I'll have to take a raincheck on hanging out today."

Georgia wasn't one to whine, even though she felt like it. "That's cool. Are you busy, or do you just not feel like it?" She made a point to sound as if she didn't mind either way, but she would be hurt to have the latter confirmed.

 _I'm not busy, but-_ Logan didn't dare speak his mind, out of fear that the connecting word would be thought to connect her two scenarios. "I wanna hang out with my dad." He knew that answer would not disappoint her. He knew she would understand.

"Cool." Georgia said, to show she was happy with that response and happy for him. After braving through the last few bites of her bread, she asked Jeremy: "Do you have any plans for today?"

He shook his head slightly. "Nothing exciting."

If he was more like his sister, he might stick around when school was let out to see what was going on, but past experiences had him doubting there were any good reasons to stay away from home longer than necessary. Though the impact of those experiences seemed to be the only thing he was running from, since he had yet to be bothered by anyone that day. For a moment, it seemed as if everyone who'd picked on him had forgotten he existed. Or they just tried to stay out of his way. He thought deeper, and remembered those same people who had talked down to him had instead simply talked to him. He had no idea what to say back.

An amused giggle brought him out of his head. Georgia wasn't the one to speak, though. "I meant to ask," Logan began, feeling odd although his question was fairly simple. "how do you pronounce your last name?"

Jeremy felt even stranger when he answered: "Al-uh-star." thinking the long 'A' sound came out zombie-like.

"Isn't Alastair a more common surname?" Georgia questioned curiously, jumping on Logan's train of thought. Alastar was clearly a variation, and he'd wondered if it was said the same way as Alastair. When Jeremy nodded in agreement, Georgia sucked her teeth. Even though she wasn't all that annoyed. "You're making me waste a perfectly good pun, _Alastar_." She told him, not noticing his mildly hurt expression.

"What do you mean?" Jeremy asked, feeling somewhat guilty. Even though he hadn't picked his name.

Georgia let him in on what she and Logan could see from their side of the table. "A whole bunch of people are Ala-staring at you."

His new friends seemed to find this funny, but he wondered if it-along with their reaction-was an indication that his treatment as a target hadn't changed.

* * *

"I hate that we don't have classes together." Logan told Georgia on their walk home. Hearing him complain was almost jarring. She'd thought him incapable of hating anything. Except cafeteria food.

She shrugged, despite how thrown off she was. "At least we have lunch."

He nodded in reply, but said nothing more on the subject. Going into how he loathed losing touch might scare her off. "So, are you and your dad gonna hang out today?"

"Yeah." She replied. Though hanging out and discussing a secret that would make her mother more emotional than usual weren't exactly interchangeable terms. Still, she pretended they were, shoving her hands into her pockets as she walked. "My mom, too. Once she gets home from work."

Logan lost his footing,-but only for a second-and laughed it off as he went on walking. Her relief for him not falling kept her from hearing that the laugh was forced. He wondered why it had to be. Usually words from his father were the most triggering. So he didn't expect Georgia making conversation to trip him up. Especially since it was something that should have made him smile. He didn't know his human lie detector had been activated, since it had been so long since the last time it was tapped into. He and Hank had built such an honest relationship that that had been out of use for awhile.

"You alright?" Georgia asked.

"Yeah, are you?" It was a natural response, probably too honest for her taste.

"I'm not the one who almost face planted on concrete."

He noticed she evaded answering-and that showed in his eyes-but he came back with: "I've learned to aim for grass."

She laughed, although it pained her to think of how many hard falls he'd taken for his passion of skateboarding. She knew the same fate was in her future, but somehow that hurt less to think about. When the laughter subsided, she saw she'd nearly passed her stop. "This is me."

"Whoa." He marveled at the sight, another beaming smile forming on his face. "Nice."

"Thanks." She said, appreciative although she didn't really see the appeal.

"I live, like, a five minute drive away." He realized. Thanks to that, she felt she had a real reason to smile.

"Lemme know how long the walk takes." She said with a wave.

"Will do." He assured, as he reciprocated the action.

She went up the walkway. When she reached the front door, Sam was standing there waiting. "Hey, Sweetie." He greeted.

"Hey, Dad."

"Who's your friend?" As her eyebrows drew together, she turned her head to see Logan still standing at the end of her walk. He'd been watching to make sure she got inside safely, but she thought he just lingered behind. Maybe to admire the hedges.

She motioned for him to come closer, and he ran as if the invitation was a command. She swallowed a sigh and got introductions out of the way. "Dad, this is Logan. Logan… my dad." The pep seemed to drain from her the more she spoke, since she knew where her next conversation would be headed. A conversation Logan wouldn't be around for.

Still, he worried. Even if he didn't sound like it. "Nice to meet you Mr. Lomin." Georgia bit back the laughter that tickled at her throat when she saw her father's expression. Delighted surprise over her new friend's manners. They shook hands.

"Nice to meet you too, Logan. And thanks for looking after Georgia." Sam sensed the annoyed and embarrassed glare his daughter tried to blink out of her eyes, and quickly added: "Even though she can look after herself." Though he wasn't looking to appease her. No matter how independent Georgia grew, it was in his job description to worry. Especially knowing her nightmares had returned.

"No problem. And I know that."

"For the new kid, he catches on quick." She agreed.

Logan chuckled, then said: "Sorry to be rude, but I gotta go." He was met with overlapping reassurance from Sam and his daughter.

"No need to apologize."

"That's not rude." Their words were enough to get his smile back. The three said their goodbyes and Logan went on his way.

When he got around the block, he ran the rest of the way home.

* * *

The days of Jeremy coming home to find his mother wrapped up in the phone cord-too deep in conversation to care-were over. Still, he smiled at the memory when he entered the kitchen to see her holding the wireless phone between her shoulder and intently-listening ear. A soft gasp from her instantly had him on edge, but she grinned, so he calmed just as quickly.

"Jeremy's here. He'll be ecstatic when I tell him." There was a pause, and Kerry's tone turned defensive. "He doesn't have to get loud to show he's happy." Another pause and she rushed through her goodbye to the caller. "Alright, good luck, see you tomorrow, love you!"

Jeremy turned his glance away from the fridge the second his mother hung up. "Was that Bonnie?" He guessed hopefully. "Is she coming home for the weekend?"

"As a matter of fact, she is." Kerry confirmed with a musing tone. "How did you know that?"

His mother had more than a handful of loved ones-all of which knew of Jeremy's generally quiet demeanor-so there were quite a few possibilities as to who she'd been talking to. Why did Bonnie seem the most logical choice out of all of them?

Jeremy just shrugged. "College calls?" He asked jokingly.

"Yeah." Kerry said in a sigh. "She's gotta get a research paper done, or else she can't see us." With that, the woman's tone went from electric with excitement to dripping with disappointment.

Jeremy brushed off his shock from hearing his sister was knee-deep in writing assignments so early in the school year, and said: "She'll get it done."

At those words, his mother sent him a wide, wonder-filled smile. "I bet you're right." She told him, touching his chin with her thumb and index finger. Her eyes settled on his before she spoke again. "You're just like Nana that way. You always just… know things."

That was the second comparison to his great-grandmother he'd gotten that day. Rather than smile about, it he shivered internally.

"I know _Bonnie_." He corrected, hoping his mother wouldn't be upset that he rejected what was meant as a compliment.

In that moment, hope hadn't helped. "Jeremy, is something bothering you?" He wondered what gave her that notion. Some might call it mother's intuition, but normally he had good defenses against that. Since school never led to that question before. (Though he doubted she thought his mood had anything to do with school.)

"No." Jeremy assured. Not a lie. _Someone_ was more like it. In the same breath, he said: "I'm gonna go get started on my homework."

"Alright." She answered. Though she wished she would have pressed the issue. Suddenly, she felt as sick as he had been.

* * *

Rehearsed words were on a loop in Georgia's swimming head.

In a matter of minutes, Monica would arrive home to find the two most important people in her life sitting in the living room, intervention style. Except she wasn't the one with the problem.

Sam had kept a secret that still left him and his daughter with nightmares. Since they'd returned, it was time to face them and the truth. The key turning in the lock sounded like a sword being pulled from its sheath. Without realizing it, Georgia reached for her father's hand.

Monica answered the sight with barely audible gasp. She left her keys in the door she seemed frozen at. But her mouth moved, and she found herself racing to the couch. "What happened?"

Suddenly, Georgia didn't want to say. What if the truth was uglier than she knew? What if her mother ran from the monster she only had the strength to scream at? The one her father fought. The one they thought he conquered.

Sam spoke for her, since he was standing his ground on taking the blame. He opened his dry mouth and said: "It wasn't just Georgia's imagination." He watched his wife's eyes go wide. She was thinking of tons of horrible scenarios at once, but nothing came close to real horror.

"What happened?!" She reiterated. The force in her voice seemed to push Georgia back. Reasons for Monica to want to leave were piling up, but she wouldn't budge until she heard the story.

* * *

 _It wasn't a trick of the light or some smudge on the lens. Georgia knew her father had been followed home by something. In each picture sent home, the creature creeped closer. Sam's last souvenir seemed like it's ideal hiding spot, according to reputation. But the alp chose a different host._

" _You can smash it all you want, but it won't do you any good." Her father's voice warned from behind. It was altered by his attitude, that in that moment scared her more than the monster she'd tried to destroy._

" _I was just-" She started, unable to finish because Sam cut her off._

" _Oh, I know-" He said in a voice that was condescendingly caring. "what you were trying to do. And it was a good try," With that, she knew she failed. Even before he told her outright. "but it won't work. I'm not inside the little doll." He went on, giving the slightest of nods to the shards on the coffee table._

" _This isn't funny, Daddy. Stop." Her words felt forced. Meant to be brave when she seemed so belittled. (kneeling on the floor that seemed to leave splinters in her crawling skin.) The words felt pointless. They felt like her last._

 _Sam sauntered out of the darkness, hovering over her with an unfamiliar smirk stuck on his face. Then a voice that sounded like it was made with two sets of vocal chords left his lips. "Daddy's not here."_

 _Her scream seemed to shake him from his trance, even though his hand aimed to cover her nose and mouth. Pulled outward by brainwaves other than his own. His nails dug into her skin, and his eyes echoed the muffled cries coming from her. Tears spilled out onto his cheeks, driven up by the force of the monster's smile._

 _The beast pressed harder, as both Georgia and Sam struggled to break free from its control. Her air supply was running short, and though she'd tried to run she'd been pinned to the floor. Her feet flailed as she kicked at it, jostling the coffee table and spilling a few shards. Sensing the plan, Sam did nothing to stop her. And everything to stop the monster that possessed him._

 _He managed to pull back, watching with saucer-sized eyes as Georgia finally filled her lungs again. But that was all he was able to do before the alp reached for a piece of the broken doll. "Do it." He urged his daughter in a whisper, closing his fist tightly to spare her the pain the monster tried to inflict. It hurt him, but it seemed to hurt the monster more._

 _This thing with the tricks of an evil elf, and the form of a pitch black ghost with red eyes, was surprisingly human._

 _Georgia tightened her grip, careful not to cut herself. Then, Sam said: "Aim for the eyes." as he tried to give her a clear shot and make himself immobile._

 _The eyes. He meant the alp's eyes. The red eyes locked on its prey, Georgia. But those eyes hid just behind her father's._

" _I'll hurt you." She dismissed, her voice breaking._

" _It'll hurt more to lose you." He said, getting his bearings and taking aim with his own weapon. He didn't get the chance to use it. The alp detached itself, flying toward Georgia. Her father was now free from the monster's possession, and she was free to follow his orders and not have to live with the guilt._

 _Only she couldn't do it. Something stopped her, and she found herself screaming again._

 _Sam got between what he loved and feared, faced the creature and slashed at the air. Just as the clock struck 12:01._

 _Georgia sat up slowly, not bothering to brush the frustrated tears that flooded her eyes away. The sound Sam made then held more distress than all the looks his untouched eyes had showcased. He rushed to Georgia and scooped her up, checking for injuries. Aside from nail marks, she was equally unscathed._

 _He carried her upstairs to her bed, and as he laid her down, she croaked out a soft "Sorry."_

" _No, I'm sorry, Sweetie." He said, before instructing what then seemed impossible. "Go to sleep."_

 _Somehow, after all that, she managed to do what she was told._

* * *

"You know," Hank began as he fixed Logan's tie for him. "I think you worry too much sometimes."

"I'm not worried about being interviewed." His son said, though at that point his eyes found the living room floor. "Should I be?"

"Maybe a little." Hank joked. He immediately regretted the words, with the whimper than answered them. "Ya know how most jobs won't hire you unless you have experience, but in order to have experience you have to have a job?"

"Yes..." Logan whined quietly. "I don't like that." He shifted in his dress shoes, that seemed not to fit even though they were his size.

"Me neither." Hank agreed. "I hope the people here aren't like that."

Logan slipped his hands into the pockets of his freshly ironed slacks. "I meant… I don't like being teased." He didn't know a relationship like theirs could have any drawbacks. Not with all the progress they'd made.

Hank didn't know he had struck a nerve so sensitive. "Sorry, son."

"It's okay. I know you don't mean anything by it. It's not a big deal, really, but I think it bothers me more now becau-" Logan stopped himself, not wanting to insult a newfound friendship his father had.

His father didn't want to just let the subject drop. "Because what?" He asked in a tone that told his son he could tell him anything. Those words no longer needed to spoken between them. That was something they both were sure of.

Logan held in a sigh as he explained himself. "Because the stuff Mr. Alastar says to Jeremy-" He'd only heard one example, but he knew what that attitude looked like. In his eyes, his friend's present was his past.

"Maybe it's not as bad as you perceive it." Hank said.

"Maybe," Logan agreed, almost automatically, playing with the buttons on his sleeves. "but… I remember what that feels like." He hesitated not because it still hurt to think about, but because he worried about how Hank would feel hearing that.

For a second, the man's mouth formed a distorted 'O'. "Did I honestly… make fun of you?" He hadn't remembered it that way, and he didn't like to think of Paul and Jeremy in those terms.

"No. Never," The immediate reply did not mean immediate relief. There had to be a catch. As Logan continued, he sounded like he was back in the place he and Hank had left behind. "but I always felt like you were disappointed in me."

The hurt in his tone was reflected in his father's eyes. "Is that why you're doing this? Is that what you're looking for a job? Do you think you owe me something?'

 _I owe you everything_. "That's not what this is about." Logan said, afraid if he didn't change the subject his father would only grow more disappointed in himself. "I'm worried about Georgia and Jeremy."

Their conversation had come full circle. "We've talked about Jeremy." Hank said, as more of a reminder to do something about the situation his son's friend was facing. "What's going on with Georgia?"

All Logan really gathered on his walk home was that something was off. "That's why I'm worried." He informed. "I don't know."

* * *

Processing had never been an issue for Monica. She knew from the second she saw her husband and daughter seated on the couch-clinging to each other like death-that she'd missed something major. How they managed to keep it from her so long was incomprehensible. Much like the explanation Georgia had given her.

She turned to her husband and spoke in a voice mixed with fear, fury, sadness and sorrow. "Some… monster followed you home from Berlin, took over your body… and tried to _kill our daughter?"_ She posed the question she could barely speak to him, yet Georgia replied.

The words came out rushed. "But Dad saved me. He… vanquished it." The word was easier to voice than 'kill', especially after it was used when talking about her. It sounded less harsh, though she didn't think her attacker deserved that.

Monica shook her head. "It shouldn't have needed to be _vanquished_. It shouldn't even have existed in the first place!"

Sam put up his hand to stop what seemed like an inevitable rant. "That's what I thought, too."

 _That's what any sane human being would think_. Monica silently agreed.

"But then…" Those words hung in the air, suddenly making Georgia more uncomfortable. There was a part of the story she hadn't been present for. "then I stumbled upon another job. As a doctor for children with supernatural abilities." Rather than a pang of betrayal, Georgia was hit by a sense of wonder. She had only thought him to be a pediatrician who happened to encounter an extraordinary patient while traveling around the world. Not someone who worked in a totally different one, so to speak.

"There were others? Were they bad, too?"

Sam's eyes glazed over. "Georgia, you don't understand-"

Monica cut her husband off, unintentionally. As angry as she was, she realized her anger wasn't directed at him. " _I_ don't understand. How can any child _you_ associate with do something so evil?"

The answer was simple, but tough to relive. "Because she lost control."

 _The blood on Sam's hand dripped onto the staircase he ran down. His patient lied limp on the living room floor. He ran to her, carefully brushing her ebony hair away from her eyes, One of which was bound to be injured by the glass. "No, no, no. Nisa, I didn't mean to do this."_ _He sobbed softly as she stirred, in too much pain to try to open her eyes._

" _Dr. Lomin…" She said weakly. Hearing her voice, he cried harder. Relieved she was still alive, but ashamed of the pain he'd caused. The next thing she said seemed out of place. She didn't care that she'd been hurt. "Is it gone?"_

" _It's morning." He informed, in case shock blinded her from her hurt. "I was too late."_

 _Nisa giggled, oblivious to the efforts her doctor was making to save her eye, or at least stop the bleeding. "You were right on time. I'm safe now. Legend says so."_

"She survived." Monica said. A sure statement, but it didn't help her feel any less lost in the world her husband had secretly worked in.

Sam nodded. Up until than he was convinced the alp side of her had not. The thing that manifested at night and chased Nisa's impossible desires, making her seem malicious should've been dead. Georgia's nightmares seemed to tell a different story. He mentally cursed himself. He should've known, reflecting on a spoken thought that seemed to fall on deaf ears with his patient. (Which was fortunate because he didn't want to give her another reason to be scared.)

" _Legends are rewritten every day."_

* * *

The flashing light on the office phone signaled a new message.

James Caomhan picked up the receiver and listened well to the voice of a skeptic-turned-believer. Her words of thanks brought a smile to his face, and some good news made him want to bring out an old case file.

He hung up and went over to open the cabinet labeled 'A', fetching a folder from the middle. In search of an address. He transferred it over into his Blackberry.

Something he felt should've been done months prior, since someone who started as a client was by that point considered a friend.

He typed out who the house at that address belonged to, before heading back to work.

 _The Alastars_

* * *

Georgia sat at the foot of her bed wondering why she was unable to hear her parents arguing from the other room. The cold floor underneath her bare feet did not seem solid. The dented wall did not seem secure. And it was far too quiet for comfort.

In the next room, Sam was mentally constructing a list of things he had to accomplish the following day. Among those items was the task to fix Georgia's jammed bedroom door, and at least find something pretty to hang behind it.

Monica was in the master bathroom, carrying out a plan of her own. With a deep yet inaudible breath, she ran the faucet.

Then she flushed her sleeping pills...

 **Thanks for reading, PLEASE REVIEW! James' last name is another one that I made up. I had a reason, but I have to figure out what that is again hehe. Also, he has that phone because I'm not tech savvy and my brother says that's the kind of phone lawyers have.**

 **Please let me know if there are any spelling/grammar/phrasing mistakes. Ideas, questions and theories are always welcome. I'll update ASAP! =]**


	3. The Promise of Gravity

**Hey, my lovely readers! I wanted to get another update done before I leave. (See my profile for more details.)**

 **I'm making a name meanings collage for these characters, so let me know if there's any pictures of the actors you'd like me to use.**

 **This chapter is dedicated to fantomdranzerx and summer164.**

 **As always, be warned about the creepiness. (This stuff freaks ME out, but I AM an emotional person, so I never know how much warning to give.)**

 **I do not own The Haunting Hour**

After a sleepless night, Monica lied still while waiting for her husband to wake. Before he could wish her a sleepy-in-spite-of-himself 'Good Morning', she asked: "Who was she? This patient of yours? Why did she go after Georgia?"

Sam rolled over to face his wife. "The alp tried to carry out her dark side's intrusive thoughts."

Intrusive thoughts. Something many had but few acted on. Especially not so violently. The revelation rose a question Monica didn't dare blink when she asked. "What was she thinking?"

Sam sighed inwardly. In his mind, he was already being looked at as something of a villain. For lying, allowing things to get as bad as they did, and lying more. His next confession would not help his case. "Nisa wanted to be the only girl in my life."

That in itself was horrific. Monica wondered if she actually knew the man lying beside her. But only for a second. If he were really to blame, why was she talking things out instead of kicking him out?

Another question crossed Monica's mind. " _How_ did she get it in her head to think that was okay?" Her disbelief over the entire situation kept her tone hushed and her eyes screaming.

" _She_ didn't." Sam corrected. "I was her doctor. I was one of the only people who treated her nicely, gave her a chance. I didn't treat her like a monster. She told us she had nowhere else to go. The alp fed on all that. Do you know how easy it is to take over someone who feels empty inside?"

Again, Monica's tone was equally as upset as it was apologetic. "How would I know _anything_ about that?" She curbed a sob, and Sam took her hand.

"The… blinding-there's really nothing else to call it-it was an experimental procedure I didn't agree with. Nisa agreed with it even though we all knew it could end up hurting her. She said she'd rather lose her sight than have to be a slave to that thing."

"But it was too resistant." Monica realized. "It knew."

A tear fell as he nodded, his ear rustling the bedsheets. "When she took on that form at night, she had no control over her actions. Most of the time they were...pranks. Nothing serious. But then it got worse. The more we tried to help, the more attached to me she got. And by the time the board ordered we go through with the _operation,_ she was gone. When I had to continue my travels, there were agents looking for her everywhere. Her parents called in." His breath hitched before he went on. "They told us she died."

"And you believed them? _Why_?" That wasn't something to just take someone's word for.

Sam was well aware of that. He gulped, anger entering his tone for the first time since that call came in. "They had some pretty damning proof. Turns out she wasn't the only one with a dark gift."

This time, Monica didn't ask for elaboration. fully convinced this was something she would never understand. She felt like her family was under attack again, and she just wanted it to be over. "Sam, how do we stop this?"

"I need to find Nisa," He said, adding that to his mental to-do list. "but first I need to call for backup."

* * *

"What's your biggest weakness?" Georgia posed the question as she put a strand of hair that came loose from her messy bun and tucked it behind her ear. Her hair was put up so lazily-not for the style of it, but-because brushing the knots out that morning had been such a challenge. She scared herself when she saw hair coming out in tufts.

"I'm a perfectionist." Logan supplied. True to his definition of a perfectionist, he never felt fully satisfied with anything he'd done.

She must not have noticed. Her eyebrows seemed to dance she was so impressed. "Who coached you on this?"

"My dad." He answered with a proud smile.

"Oh, right. Who else?" She tapped her head as if to say she had a mental lapse.

He found himself laughing. "He's not the only person I know besides you guys." After a beat, Logan rephrased. "Well, here he is, but… I'm not really that antisocial." He finished his explanation as she giggled. "I just have other stuff to take care of right now."

"Like getting this job." Georgia said, watching him nod in agreement. She then turned to Jeremy. "Do you have any practice questions to ask?"

She was surprised he heard her. He didn't look very alert, and seemed to be watching the clock tick. Jeremy shook his head. "I'm sure it'll work out fine."

"Of course it will, but it's fun. He likes a challenge." Again Logan nodded.

Jeremy got the feeling there was no getting out of this game. There was no harm in participating, so he gave that some thought. Trying to come up with a question that would challenge his new friend. His clasped hands pulled apart to reveal that his mouth hung slightly open. The question took a second to voice itself. "What will make you love coming to work?"

Jeremy wasn't even sure he made sense, going by his friends' expressions. They were caught off guard, but in the best sort of way. A smile spread across Logan's face as he answered. "Knowing that I make people happy."

* * *

Telephone tag had always been a game that went on too long for Sam. He knew it was the middle of lunch hour, at least for his wife and daughter. He on the other hand couldn't stomach food. Not until this issue with Nisa was resolved. He was having more trouble getting through to his ex-colleagues than he could ever remember, learning that she had moved around between foster homes within the past few months. As he was informed, it was difficult to find a place that fit her needs. He didn't have time to wonder what that meant, he had to track her down. Finally, he was patched through to the place where she currently lived.

"Is this really Dr. Sam Lomin? I'm a big fan of your work." The voice on the other line gushed.

"And I'm a fan of getting things done without distraction, so I'll thank you for that later." It surprised even him that he answered admiration with attitude, but given the circumstances, he couldn't help it.

"Uh, right. Sorry, sir." The other man stammered in reply. "What do you need?"

"I'm checking in on an old patient of mine, Nisa Darvish." He spelled her last name and heard the man on the other line clicking through records. Followed by a somewhat nervous chuckle.

"According to this, she left here this morning with an escort. They're on course to visit you, sir."

Relief rushed over Sam. It was good to hear Nisa was alive, but if she needed to be watched, he thought he shouldn't feel so relieved. "This morning." He echoed, highly doubting it. "That doesn't sound right. Are you sure?"

The person Sam had on the phone knew that was a question for someone not quite as new as him. "Excuse me, Aubrey?" He called out. Clicking heels came to a stop before making their way back down the hallway in his direction.

"What happened to the silent treatment?" She asked coolly as she approached the desk.

"It didn't seem very effective." He answered, quickly adding: "I need your help. Do you know why Nisa checked out today? I have her doctor on the phone with me."

In answer, she gripped the receiver. "Dr. Lomin, Nisa just wanted to personally thank you for all your help. There's nothing to worry about."

"I'm not so sure of that." He said, in a tone that was a consequence of signs that an alp had intruded his home. "You're certain she left just this morning?"

"Absolutely." Aubrey answered. "I dropped her off at the airport myself."

" _You_ were her escort?" Sam said, with a confusion reflected in the eyes of the colleague in front of her. Then, darkly, he tacked on: "And you left her alone?"

"She's completely stable. Especially after the procedure, as crudely as it was done. I don't condone that sort of thing, but it was clear you had no other choice."

"It didn't work." He informed, since he'd seen the proof.

"Yes, _Doctor_ , it did." He could tell his former title was thrown in there as an insult, since that was what Aubrey felt he was doing to her intelligence. "She was monitored. The alp never presented itself again. And Nisa never left without asking. Not that she has to anymore." Her words had almost fizzled out toward the end of that sentence, but suddenly they sounded icy. "Say 'hi' to her for me, will you? I'm really gonna miss that kid." Sam tried to speak, but the sharpness of the tone on the other line kept him from doing so. "Remember to look her in the eye when you do. She deserves that respect."

Before Sam could recover enough to respond, she hung up on him.

* * *

"Did some late college hazing ritual turn Bonnie into a _cow_?" Paul questioned in confusion, seeing that there was food cooking on both the oven racks as well as the stovetop. He didn't like seeing his wife overwork herself. No matter how good it made the house smell. "Why are you making so much food?"

"To answer your first question," Kerry said as her husband went about setting the table, "she's thankfully never been hazed. And James is also joining us for dinner tonight."

"The lawyer?" Paul asked, knowing she nodded even though he couldn't look at her while handling fine china. "Why, are we suing somebody?"

She giggled as she opened the oven, and the giggling got louder when the smoke detector went off. He swatted at it with a dish towel as she told him: "No, we're having company."

"And just like with the Frosts, you don't know what he likes. So, you wanna be prepared."

"That's the plan." She agreed.

As Paul set down the table runner-the very same one used the last time James was over-his heart dropped into his stomach. "Don't you think this is a bit… awkward?"

"No. Why do you?"

"Because the last time he was here he sent our _kids_ to-"

"To fulfill my grandmother's dying wish." Kerry interrupted, hearing that Paul was getting himself upset. "It was good for them."

"I still wonder about that." He said, looking the table over to make sure he hadn't forgotten to put anything out. Really what he was feeling inadequate about was comforting his child. "Jeremy with his… attachment issues…" He trailed off.

Kerry's response sounded a lot stronger than she felt, seeing how her son was acting lately. "He's at peace now. And I think we have James to thank for that. This seems like the proper way to go about that."

"You're right," Paul decided. "as always." The two sent each other smiles and Kerry turned the dials on the oven down to keep everything warm. Then the phone rang. Paul picked up while Kerry ran to put on her jewelry. (She never wore it while cooking, out of paranoia that it would end up literally lost in the sauce.)

She returned to the sound of her husband heaving a sigh as he hung up the phone. "What's wrong?"

"That was Bonnie. She's gonna book a later flight because she hasn't gotten her paper done yet."

Kerry nodded understandingly, though-like her husband-she wished it could've been different. Still, she tried to give the new development a positive spin. "I guess we'll have a lot of leftovers."

* * *

Georgia immediately felt uneasy the second she wasn't secretly panicked. Her newfound friendships were a good distraction from her nightmares, but they had still loomed. Up until school let out, and she no longer felt like she was being followed by bad memories.

She did what she'd seen dozens of girls do in the bathroom mirror, and went about fixing her hair. Only to find that there was nothing to fix.

It was as if the knots had untangled themselves. Elfknots were a trademark of a trickster alp, according to Georgia's research. But her research also told her alps inhabited small objects, not people. She didn't know what to believe, and she didn't know what to do.

The only rational decision seemed to be to meet up with Logan. She didn't want to keep him waiting any more than she wanted to bother him with her troubles. (Even though those troubles seemed to be doing away with themselves.) Suddenly a more challenging interview question entered her mind: "Would you choose associate with people that have been targeted by supernatural forces?" It was something she'd keep to herself, afraid to hear the answer no matter what it was.

* * *

"She won't be home for dinner?" As Jeremy stood on the corner of the block outside school, he tried to sound happier than he felt. Strangely, that took minimal effort. It actually felt good to be wrong. Even though he nearly dropped his cell phone in a puddle upon hearing the news. (He was beginning to wonder if Logan's clumsiness was contagious.) "So, what should I do? I know Dad was saying I should try to stick around school a little more-" When his mother cut him off, he worried that he'd done something to upset her. Of course he wanted to eat with his family, but that wasn't going to happen without Bonnie. "Oh, he is?" He would've been more surprised about James coming to dinner had it not been for the chill that raced up his spine and struck nerves in his shoulders.

It was like he was being watched.

* * *

"Hey, kid!" Logan turned his throbbing head and looked behind him, through the fence around the football field. The coach was standing there with a tired smile on his face. "Can you do me a favor and toss that ball back over here?"

A student-athlete stood next to the man, looking embarrassed. He was the reason Logan felt like he had a headache. "Sorry!"

The younger boy shrugged that off and shouted back: "Nah, I'm sorry. I don't have the best arm." If he was better at throwing, he might've tried out for the football team if he and his father had come to town earlier.

This didn't seem to bother either one of the others. "Then why don't you kick it?" The coach suggested.

That, he could do. He just didn't realize how well. So when he complied, and the two on the field widened their eyes to the size of footballs, he wasn't sure what to expect. The ball flew clear over the others' heads, and they had this urge to applaud the kid who was just happy to help.

Plus, the action gave the coach an idea.

* * *

"You seem better today." Logan spoke his observation on the walk home, though he knew it would make Georgia ask why he ever suspected that she didn't feel good.

Except she didn't ask. Even though she wanted to. "I feel better today."

"Good. Me too."

"Don't you feel good every day?" She teased.

He shrugged. "I can't be happy all the time. It's unnatural."

She nodded. She knew a bit about unnatural things. Then she caught up with his words. "Wait, _you_ were unhappy? Just about us not having classes together or what?"

"I was unhappy 'cause I knew you were." He admitted, in a tone that didn't ask for explanation.

" _How_?"

He felt like a terrible friend for phrasing himself the way he did, despite the honesty. "I'm good at knowing when people are lying. Even if they don't use words to do it." He hoped she could tell he was looking out for her. He didn't see her as a liar. That label belonged to people that lied not to spare people's feelings, but to take advantage of them.

"I'm sorry, Logan." Though Georgia wasn't sorry that she lied. Not after she gave it some thought. "This is a family thing."

"I get it." He told her with a nod. He tried to smile but seemed to forget how, which made the silence that followed for the rest of the walk extremely uncomfortable. When they got to her house, he noticed no cars were in the driveway. He wanted to ask where Georgia's father was, but felt like he was overstepping a boundary. Especially after she had explained that the family was going through something, and that something was going to stay a family secret.

"You don't have to wait for me to go inside. No monster is gonna come get me in the ten seconds it takes to get from here to the door." It was a cruel little joke, but also a serious bit of reassurance considering Georgia felt like a crushing weight had been lifted off her.

"I know," Logan said, though he didn't budge as he waved goodbye. "but this is just how I operate."

With a nod, and that surprised feeling that was guaranteed when it came to how Logan operated, she waved back.

* * *

Sam's day didn't stop on Nisa's account. Even though he was expecting her, he still had things to take care of. Which is why he was at the home goods store, picking out a frame for Georgia to fill with pictures that would cover the hole in her wall. It was the last thing on his mental list, and crossing it off made him feel accomplished. There was the added bonus of a project to keep her mind off what had hunted her.

The drive home was dragged out by his excitement, since he knew his daughter would be there waiting for him. He hoped she was in a brighter mood, like he was. It seemed out of place with all that had gone on, but that feeling wouldn't leave him.

Not even as he walked up the pathway to his house, and was stopped short in the middle of it by a familiar voice.

"Dr. Lomin?" Hardly anyone still called him that, but that title and tone was once a chilling combination.

He turned to face Nisa, who stood with a quiet confidence even though she had her hands shoved in the pockets of her ripped gray jeans. (Worn by work and not for the fashion of it.) Her curly black hair now fell just past her shoulders, and was tangle free. The summer sun shone on her olive skin as she stood there in a light sleeveless vest. Her eyes were smiling. One dark brown, the other a slightly hazier version of that same color. With hair-thin scars around the lid.

Looking into those eyes, he could see straight to her mended soul. This young woman no longer needed his help, but it took seeing her for himself to believe it. "Nisa, how are you?" He asked although he knew the answer.

"Happier and healthier than I've ever been. I just wanted to thank you for that."

"You didn't have to come all this way. You did so much to help yourself-" He could say that with confidence in her, but his tone also carried shame. He hadn't been around to help in over a year.

She laughed in spite of herself. The image her doctor had of himself was so off. "What about how much you traveled to help all those kids before me? In places where there aren't services for kids like… like I used to be? Where people thought they were evil just because they were different? What about the ones that couldn't even tell their parents what they were?" Her striking eyes were brimming with happy tears that shunned her dark past. "I'm here for them, too." She could bet there were plenty of others that wanted to give their thanks.

"That's very kind of you, but unnecessary. I was just doing my job."

"You saved us in so many ways," She told him. "and even if you don't think so, you deserve to be recognized for that." He went to say something, but forgot what that was when he saw his former patient's face fall. He followed her glance and saw his daughter peering out of her bedroom window. Though he had no idea what expression she'd had on her face, he doubted it was a positive one. He tried to pull Nisa's attention away from that, but the only sound that left his lips was a soft whine at a loss for words. "You should get back to her." Nisa said brightly.

He nodded, but didn't move. "I'm glad you're doing better, and I'm sorry for what it came down to."

She shook her head, and left after the words: "Don't be. I've never felt this beautiful, either."

* * *

"So, you've helped Bonnie with homework assignments?" Paul asked. The broccoli that hung on his fork was pointed almost accusingly at James. It was an odd thing for a lawyer to do.

He shook his head. "No, but because of my line of work I have a lot of connections. So I was able to direct her to people that could."

"Thank you," Kerry told him, "but… why?" She spoke her husband's mind with that question.

James explained himself, though he felt like he shouldn't have to. "I consider her going with Jeremy to scatter Nadia's ashes…" The boy's ears perked up at his great-grandmother's name rather than his own, but he couldn't lift his head up with the gloomy feeling that hovered over it. Instead, he concentrated on eating. Listening intently to the conversation as he had been from the start, but not taking part in it. "...a very noble thing."

"So you're _still_ repaying the favor?" Paul asked, trying to find the logic in that. "After two years?"

"It was a big favor." James reasoned. His reasoning still fell short for the Alastars, but they didn't question it. They trusted him. They wouldn't have invited them into their home otherwise.

"I think it must've been scary for them." Kerry said as she finished what was on her plate. (If eating had been a race, she would've come in second to her son.) "Especially being in unfamiliar territory on their own. I still don't think we got the whole story." With those words, her glance shifted to Jeremy, but he wasn't paying attention. At least, not with his eyes. That was very unlike him.

"Well, it's been nice having you here." Paul told James. "Are you able to stay in town longer?"

He nodded. "I usually have weekends off unless I take a case."

Kerry beamed. "Great, so you'll get to see Bonnie."

"As luck would have it."

For some reason, that phrase made Jeremy's ears ring. It was as if sickness still clung to him. Maybe he hadn't gotten over his cold. It was hard to be convinced of that when he had shivers, a pulsating headache, and buzzing in his ears. He hoped this was something he could sleep off.

* * *

Dinner in the Lomin household was pizza on snack tables in the living room with the television tuned into a foreign film marathon. For the first time in days, the family was able to eat without feeling like their stomachs would flip. Even with the question nagging at Georgia's mind. The question she couldn't help voicing.

She muted the TV so she would have her parents' full attention. "That was her, wasn't it?" The start of her sentence was directed at Sam, and the clarification that followed was added for Monica's benefit. "Nisa was here today."

This didn't startle her mother, since tracking Nisa down had been part of the plan. She just made it easy by coming to them.

Sam nodded. "She just wanted to say thanks." She was keeping her distance, like she had when they talked, but he had a feeling she wasn't too far away. She had to be staying somewhere close until she headed home. Wherever home happened to be.

"What about 'sorry'?" Monica asked sourly, even though she hadn't expected an apology for actions that were out of Nisa's control.

If Sam had an answer for this, he didn't get to give it. His daughter said something before he could. "Does this mean it's over?"

There was no clear-cut response for that. Still, Sam tried his best to come up with something that sufficed. "She's completely human now. It's possible the only thing that was chasing us was a memory."

That left no explanation for the curdled milk and knotted hair. Unless Georgia had been asleep much longer than she thought, and her hair's condition was a result of all her tossing and turning. The was no denying that the fear that followed her family had faded, but that didn't mean they were completely off the hook. In her opinion, it simply meant a chance for them to catch their breath.

* * *

"Good news." Hank announced quietly from the other side of his son's door. Inside, Logan sat at his desk, finishing homework that had lost priority when the two went out to eat.

He reached over and opened the door without even getting up, but turned to face his father as he spoke. "Ya know, I never get why people do that." He didn't like stalling, whether the news it eventually led to was good or bad. "Just tell me." He smiled so Hank would know he wasn't angry, but wanted his little wish to be given voice.

"Okay." A joking pause came after that, which was quickly filled by their laughter. "There's a message on the phone for you. From one of the many people who interviewed you." Logan answered this with a silent sigh of relief, but there was more to be said. "She wants to give you a trial run." Hank was glad to see he knew his son so well, because his smile didn't falter when he heard that. "She's not used to working with kids."

"...I'll give it my best shot." The boy assured, as he wrote down the answer to the last question in the work packet. He got up to go check the message, and Hank moved out of the doorway. Logan had barely reached the end of the hall before he remembered something. "Hey, Dad?"

"Yeah?"

The two turned to face each other. "I don't know why I didn't tell you this at dinner," Logan began. Though subconsciously he did the very thing he admitted bugged him: stalling. "but... something happened at school today." Something that could potentially interfere with his work schedule.

"Are you alright?" Hank asked, sensing something in his son's tone that made him think otherwise.

"Yeah." That was meant to be reassuring, but it came out rough. "Just conflicted." His frustration with himself led to him talking with his hands more than usual. "I wanna focus my energy on this job thing." In that moment, his energy went into a pitiful whine over what he regarded as irresponsibility.

"Work doesn't have to be your whole life." Hank told his son, though he wondered why he had to. They had learned that lesson together. "It _shouldn't_ be your whole life."

Logan wasn't concerned with work taking over his life. Work meant a sense of responsibility and purpose. Money was also a good selling point. The downside to work was it meant time apart from his father. As did anything else life threw at him lately. That was the real issue, but he couldn't bring himself to say so. "I know." He wasn't proud of that reply, but it was all he could come up with.

Hank could tell his son was punishing himself, but he didn't know he was the reason behind that. "C'mon. Let's talk about… whatever it is you wanna talk about over dessert."

"Dessert?!" Logan echoed excitedly, forgetting all about his fight with himself.

With a playful eye roll, Hank led the way on the short walk to the kitchen.

The two were so deep in conversation they didn't notice when the sky swallowed the sun and spit out the moon. Though as Logan went to bed, he saw that there were no stars.

* * *

The clock on the dash read 2:52.

The car pulled up slowly, and Bonnie put it in park. She grabbed her keys and got out of the car, closing the door with just the right amount of force that it didn't wake the neighbors but still shut. As she walked up to the house, she held up her keys and aimed behind her while pushing the lock button.

Inside, the house was a calming quiet. She turned on a light so she wouldn't have to guess her way up the stairs. Though she'd lived there all her life, and probably could. At the top of the stairs, she ran a hand through her dark brown hair. The red dye had long since been washed out, but in certain light the natural highlights of a similar color could still be seen.

Even though Bonnie longed for the comfort of her own bed-and felt tired enough that she wouldn't put it past herself to pass out in the upstairs hallway-she felt obligated to greet her family. Not that she would use words to do so at such an early hour. She wanted to check up on them. It was something she knew her mother still did. Given where they lived, the action was only a tool to put her mind at ease. Kerry had never come across any sort of danger in the middle of the night. Still, she always made sure to check. Bonnie did the same as a way to pay her back.

From her parents' doorway she could tell that they were sound asleep. She bit back laughter upon being reminded that her mother snored louder than her father, and then inched the door closed again.

Turning around, a sense of confusion crept over her. She distinctly remembered turning off the hall light when she reached the upstairs landing. She mentally breathed a sigh of relief when she realized the light she saw was coming from Jeremy's room. She could bet he found a remedy for his restlessness in the last few pages of the book she'd sent him. Unable to contain his quiet excitement over her visit, and fighting off the anger he felt for it being delayed. Bonnie smiled to herself faintly when the thought crossed her mind that he was waiting up for her.

The glow from the other side of the door showed off the note on the front of it. Her note. The one he was still proudly showing off. This made her smile even more. Her smile brightened in a sneaky sort of way when she thought about not knocking-in her soft yet incessant manner- before she entered. That would put a scare into him.

She turned the doorknob, fully prepared for the two sounds bound to follow. Him gasping, and the thud of his book as it fell to the floor. Only she didn't hear anything.

What she saw was her brother fast asleep. His lips had turned a pale blue, in spirit-sinking contrast to the red eyes of the creature that sat on his chest.

The sight left her without the strength to scream, but the sound of her jingling keys falling to the floor woke Jeremy. When his eyes opened-wide with the realization that he couldn't breathe-the thing suffocating him jumped like a skittish cat that got caught rummaging through garbage for scraps. Dazed, Jeremy just stared as his attacker evaporated into the air.

"That was... real." He wheezed. It certainly felt that way.

"I wish it wasn't." His sister admitted, knowing she wasn't the only one. As she rushed to him, her light blue eyes ran over his still-stiff body, searching for any other signs of damage. None were found. She hugged him from behind-as she'd done once before-by putting her hands on his shoulders for a brief moment.

Her statement had no shock value. The last time the two of them came in contact with something supernatural, Bonnie didn't even believe it was possible. "Wh-what was that?"

The question was meant to be rhetorical, but she had something to say for it. Her voice was at a whisper, but her tone was sharp. (Whenever she was direct with her answers, they packed a similar punch to a ninja throwing shurikens.) "James might know."

The man did say he had connections, but Jeremy didn't think that meant he had a link to anything they would label 'the unexplained'. "Why would he?" He asked as he struggled-but managed-to sit up.

The terror Bonnie felt for her brother just seconds ago turned to dust from the weight of her shame. The secret she spoke then should've been shared with Jeremy months before.

"He knew about Nana…"

 **Thanks for reading, PLEASE REVIEW! Let me know if there are any spelling/grammar/phrasing mistakes, anything you want me to elaborate on, or any ideas you may have. I'll update ASAP! =]**


	4. Bloodlines Drawn

**This is the last pre-written chapter I have. I'm working on chapter 5 now. Hope there are some enjoyable twists ahead, because chapter 4 is usually one of my favorites in any story I have.**

 **This chapter is dedicated to fantomdranzerx of tumblr.**

 **I do not own The Haunting Hour**

The sun seemed to rise shyly, slowly coming out of hiding after such a scare. At the sight of it, Bonnie sat up, putting her hands behind her for support. She turned her head and spoke softly from her spot on the floor. "Jeremy? It's time to get up."' The use of the work 'wake' was avoided because she knew her brother hadn't slept. Neither had she, keeping watch for hours. His attacker had not returned.

They relied on daylight's defenses as they parted ways to slowly go about their morning routines. Hoping the creature steered clear of natural light. The siblings met up again at the top of the stairs, and Jeremy spoke the first words he'd managed in hours. "If you'd waited for a later flight, I'd be dead." For a change, he was the one stating the painfully obvious.

She didn't disagree with what he told her, but she could do without hearing it. "Is that your way of saying 'thank you'?" The callous whisper did nothing to spare his feelings, and at first the response seemed like payback. Until Bonnie finished her thought. "'Cause I don't feel like I deserve it."

He shook his head, prepared to tell her to rethink that. They were already shook up by what happened. He didn't want her to feel guilty about it, too. Before he could reply, they heard their parents talking in the dining room.

"I wonder what time Bonnie got back in last night."

"Must've been after your nightly rounds. Unless she was raiding the fridge." Paul joked as he put his coffee mug down. While he said this, his children walked up behind him. Kerry tried to tell him this with just her smile, but he didn't get the message and only smiled back. When Bonnie put her hands on Paul's shoulders, he flinched.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." Her guilty tone went unnoticed by the adults. Jeremy heard, but was trying to focus on more positive things. Like how the tabletop was covered in a variety of breakfast plates. Bonnie followed his glance, and asked: "Are we expecting company?"

Paul shook his head and explained: "Not until later. This is for the four of us. There's nothing wrong with leftovers."

His daughter smiled faintly, as she and Jeremy sat down.

"So, how was everything?" Kerry asked.

"Well, it helps that Holden's house is only a ten minute cab ride from the airport. And that his parents don't mind me 'breaking into the garage'."

The adults chuckled. "I'm surprised your engine still turned over." Paul thought aloud.

"Well, they take my car out once in awhile." Bonnie told him with a twirl of her fork.

He nodded approvingly. "Are you confident about that paper you turned in?"

Her answer came out weakly. "...Yeah."

"You don't _sound_ confident." Kerry pointed out. She opened her mouth to say something else, but her daughter unknowingly cut her off.

"I'm just tired." Almost within the same breath, she asked: "Is it alright if I take Jeremy for a drive after breakfast?"

He was relieved his parents weren't looking at him in that moment-and instead had their puzzled glances focused on Bonnie-because it was clear from Jeremy's expression that she sprung that on him, too.

"Didn't you just say you were tired?" Paul questioned, scraping the remnants of everything he'd eaten into one pile on his plate.

"I'll take a nap when I get back." Bonnie reasoned. Her calm tone gave no sign that she was sweating while trying to dodge suspicion.

"Where are you going?" Kerry asked curiously, looking between her children.

"To the mall." Her daughter supplied, watching Paul's eyes narrow slightly.

"Jeremy hates the mall. It's loud and crowded." Hearing himself say this, he wondered how his son could handle a high school hallway.

The others at the table turned their attention to Jeremy, when he put his fork down with a clank. "I don't _hate_ the mall, it just makes me anxious. Besides, that's just for her. After that, we'll go look at comic books."

"Alright." The adults agreed. Though they talked in unison they used different tones. One seemed reluctant. The other, almost submissive.

In about twenty minutes, the children were out the door.

Bonnie waited until they were in the car again before she spoke. "You like comic books?"

Jeremy shrugged. "I was trying to buy us time, same as you."

They looked between each other, feeling trapped though their parents had let them go. They were set to seek help, but didn't expect to find it,

Finally, Bonnie answered with a simple "Okay." But her tone was appreciative. Then she continued, sounding somewhat like her normal self. "You do know where James is staying, right?"

In response, her brother started typing the name of the hotel in her GPS.

* * *

"First, I wanna say that I really appreciate this. Hardly anyone would jump at the chance to be part of a dying business. And no one who's ever worked for me would show up a full twenty minutes before their shift." Logan's new employer expressed her gratitude as she held the door to her bookstore open for him.

"Well, uh, thank you… for the opportunity." He walked in smoothly, but felt he stumbled over every word.

"Sorry it isn't much of one. It'll probably feel like doing chores at home."

Logan almost didn't hear because he was taking in his surroundings. A two story building jampacked with books from all kinds of genres. Scenery from their pages was painted on the walls and shelves. It was all neat and organized, but there seemed to be just enough space for the checkout considering how much room the shelves took up. He was surprised he could manage to move around in there.

"Except for the book selling part, right?"

"I'll handle that." The woman said, with a headshake that made her dreadlocks sway about. "It's the cleaning that's getting tiring."

Logan's understanding nod hid any bit of disappointment. That feeling drained from him when he remembered one of his new boss's interview questions. "Ms. Edson, why'd you ask me if I was allergic to dogs?"

He didn't suspect it was to break the ice. The woman seemed strictly professional. He didn't see her as the type to joke around, or even make friendly conversation. Which is why her first words to him that day came as a surprise.

The smile she sent him then said he had her pegged wrong. Which was atypical, but a relief all the same. "I'm not the only one runnin' this shop." With that, she gave a beckoning whistle. Padded feet came speeding down the staircase and skidded to a stop at the sight of Logan. When the running seized, the barking started up. Loud and aggressively annoying, though Ms. Edson knew her dog also felt annoyed. Alarmed and worried for their safety around this stranger. "It takes _awhile_ for Sasha to get used to new people."

Given the emphasis on that word, the boy guessed the adjustment would take a few years, minimum. He wondered when the barking would stop-since it could keep away customers-and the question he hadn't gotten a chance to ask was answered when she commanded: "Hush." in a sharp but low tone. Sasha immediately complied. Logan's impressed smile faded when he heard her say: "Shake hands."

Both her dog and new employee did as they were told. Underneath Sasha's guttural growls and Logan's nervous laughter she couldn't hear him mumble: "She hates me." Hoping he wouldn't get his hand bitten off. After that, Sasha was sent to her post by the front counter.

"Before I give you the tour, and today's to do list, I have one last interview question for you." Her usual authoritative tone was replaced with one of wonder. Though Logan's smile stayed this time around, she quickly added: "Don't get nervous. This is a fun one. What's your favorite type of book?"

She could tell he was thinking, but didn't know what about. He wasn't much of a reader. Especially not lately. "I like… ghost stories." He told her, doubting his own choice of words.

Her hazel eyes shifted slightly. "Do you mean anything scary or specifically stories about ghosts?"

That reply came quickly. "The second one." He clarified.

"Why?"

He hadn't prepared for that to be a two-part question. By nature, he was an honest guy. Though an honest answer might cost him the job he hadn't even officially acquired, and have his former boss wanting him to seek psychiatric help.

"It's ironic and interesting how alive they are." Logan kept the real answer to himself. _A ghost saved my life._

* * *

Georgia shuffled out onto the back deck to join her father for breakfast. Though she was fully energized, she kept her pace slow. Relieved that she was able to relax again. He greeted her with a sleepy smile as she sat down. He'd made a plate for her. A Belgian waffle with syrup filling every square, just how she liked it. "I slept like a koala last night." After a beat and a light chuckle from him, she felt the need to explain herself. "They sleep twenty two hours a day. It seems like a better expression than 'slept like a baby' to me."

"I see your point." Sam said with a smile. Then he watched hers slowly fade. He wondered if that was due to lingering fear over the alp. When she voiced her thoughts, his were proven wrong.

"Mom left already." Not a question, but an observation.

Rather than sigh, Sam nodded. "Meeting today. Were you looking forward to mother-daughter bonding time?"

Georgia accidentally scratched her fork along the plate when she cut up a small piece of her waffle. They both cringed at the sound. After a few bites of her breakfast, she said: "That's what we always did. When you were away."

He found himself laughing though he didn't find that funny. "I wouldn't wanna have to leave again for you to have that back."

She swallowed hard, and though her waffle was soaked in syrup the pieces seemed to scratch at her throat. "And we wouldn't want you to go. I just… I've been thinking about how it was. I'm worried she thought that she was just… holding me over." Such a harsh thought was so awkwardly voiced.

Sam shook his head, disputing it. "We all love each other equally."

She agreed, but doubted that fact lessened the blow for Monica. "I get called a Daddy's Girl all the time. That's gotta hurt. Especially since I'm the only kid."

Trying for a laugh seemed like the best way to handle the situation, so Sam replied with: "Well, there's a fix for that."

She outright scoffed, showing she was indeed her mother's daughter. "Not a very simple one."

"If we can share you, you can share us with somebody else." He went on jokingly.

"I share you with each other," Georgia said, her voice raised a bit. "that's enough for me."

Sam smiled. "That's fair." Then, as he cleared his plate, inspiration stuck. "Hey," She looked up, her expression softening. "Why don't we… set something up for her today? We can buy her something, make her her favorite dinner-"

"Sounds perfect! She'll love it." Georgia wasn't sure if excitement made her interrupt her father, or if she just didn't want to him to go on to suggest they clean the house to make Monica feel appreciated.

"What kind of present are you thinking of getting?"

Georgia passed her empty plate over to her father, and began gathering up everything to be washed and put away. "How 'bout a book?"

* * *

The Alastars' fridge seemed to be overflowing with food. Paul and Kerry put away the leftover leftovers and tried to think of something that would occupy their time. Their minds were racing, but nothing that ran through them was inspiring. Only worrisome.

Paul was scolding himself, but out loud his voice only reached a whisper. "I don't know what you feel more away from right now. Our kids or your culture."

When those two topics were pitted against each other, it was no contest. "Definitely the kids." She said with a sigh. Fully aware that trying to spare her husband's feelings would only hurt more. "You know I don't mind-"

"But you should." Paul interrupted. "I hate that we've lost touch with them, and what's worse is we've lost touch with tradition, too."

"None of that is as important as Bonnie and Jeremy." Kerry argued, but she didn't sound angry.

Paul was a different story. He was angry at himself. " _Yes_ it is. It's a part of who you are. And I love who you are. We can't be taking shortcuts with this. I miss it too much." He smiled faintly as he finished his thought. "Especially our weekends of rest, I could really use one of those."

"We all could." She agreed. "But right now I just wanna know what's going on with them."

He stayed silent for a second. The two just looked at each other while he got his next sentence together. "No one's gone near Nana's room since, but he was in there Thursday morning. He looked happy after we talked, but I'm scared he's regressing." It hurt for Paul to think his son wasn't as strong as he thought. He was hoping Kerry would disagree.

"He didn't wanna be compared to her." After a pause, she asked: "Do you think it's school that's got him acting like this?"

It was possible. "High school is hell on its own. But he can't talk to her about it, and I think that's the worst part."

Kerry's arms crossed, but not in an angry way. It looked like her hands were resting on the opposite elbows as she revealed: "He still talks to her." in a quiet tone.

Paul blinked, slightly baffled. "Well. Well I might think that was a good thing, if he would talk to us." She nodded understandingly. "He's always been called the quiet one, that's nothing new. But have you ever known Bonnie to give us anything but blunt honesty?"

"Never thought I'd miss it." Kerry admitted. Since the alternative to Bonnie's brutal truthfulness was usually sarcasm. She realized she wanted both back. The secrecy scared her.

"I wish _we_ had Nana's intuition," Paul told his wife. If only that could've been left to them in her will. Kerry would much rather have that than the jewelry she wore. "then we wouldn't have to wonder what was wrong."

* * *

The floor underneath Jeremy's feet did not seem stable. He stood alone , in the hallway that led to James' hotel suite. Inside, the lawyer talked with his sister, but he could not hear a word. The three were separated by more than one door.

He hadn't meant to get locked out of the conversation. He was there at the start of it. He and Bonnie walked in together. James had been out on the balcony, admiring the view. Since the kids hadn't called ahead, it was sheer luck that he went to read the room service menu just as they arrived.

"Good morning, guys." He greeted. If he was surprised to see them, he didn't act like it. "Welcome back, Bonnie."

She got right to the point. "We need to talk to you."

"Come on in." They did as they were told, taking a seat at the table. "What's troubling you?" It had to be something, or else they would've shown up at his door wearing smiles. Or not shown up at all.

Bonnie looked at her brother. She was offering him the chance to speak. He looked between the other two, as if he would find the answer floating in the air between them. Then he found himself looking at the tabletop. His sister gave him a nudge as James looked on worriedly. Someone had to fess up about what happened. Bonnie's patience was wearing thin. If he didn't speak soon, she would speak for him. "Bonnie says you knew about Nana."

While James nodded slowly in affirmation, Bonnie squared her eyes. Her mouth hung open slightly as she stared at her brother, wondering why he hadn't said anything about being attacked. Almost as if he'd forgotten he nearly died a handful of hours before. A realization hit her before she or James could speak. Nana meant more to Jeremy than any of that. _That should've been obvious._

"I did." James replied, since he knew the nod he gave was only half an answer. "As I'm sure you know, Nadia wasn't my only client." Both children nodded slowly, but only Bonnie knew what he was going to say next. "My clients tend to have one thing in common. They all could... do things you don't see at school talent shows."

Jeremy's widened eyes drifted to Bonnie, to see if she wore the same shocked expression. She didn't, which is how he knew he was the only one in the room that was out of loop. The weight that fell on his chest then was minute in comparison to his attack, but somehow it hurt worse. "You knew."

"Well, it wasn't just a coincidence." James specialized in cases that involved people with supernatural abilities, but Bonnie was the type to stray from that as much as possible. Jeremy had known that for a long time. She had dismissed every fantasy book on his shelf as weird, and that was all she ever had to say about it.

That's how it used to be. Until she added to his collection, with the book she sent home for him.

Jeremy's eyes narrowed slightly, as if that would help him zero in on the sorrow she was supposed to feel. He couldn't remember a point in his life when he didn't feel like he was stuck with her. Realizing she kept this secret from him made him see that he didn't mind being stuck. She was protective and she stood her ground. Even when it earned her looks and lip, she was always honest and upfront. She understood her brother's emotions. Even some of the ones he didn't voice. So why did she brush off the fact that he felt betrayed?

He wanted to argue with her. Most days he would, without the hesitation he was famous for. With James in the room, the words didn't form. Though the boy couldn't blame him. He had stood up and spoken to adults a lot easier than expected. Her presence always helped.

Jeremy was starting to doubt the assurance of always.

"I assume Bonnie brought you here to have me explain myself." James said, thinking he took too long to do so. He took the blame off Bonnie. " _I_ had asked her to keep this a secret, and I can see now that I made a mistake. I'm sorry, Jeremy."

"It's okay." Jeremy said, that famous hesitation of his absent. He could sense Bonnie's eyebrows angling down in annoyance. She wanted to know why James didn't get any attitude, and what changed her brother's mood up so quickly. He was able to give her that answer, since he figured it out for himself. "You didn't think I could handle it. I get it now."

"No, you _don't_." Bonnie argued. The edge in her tone emphasized by her anger over Jeremy continuing to lead James away from the heart of the matter. "You weren't supposed to have this stuff to handle." With that, he heard the sorrow he'd thought she shunned. "Nobody was supposed to know."

Jeremy looked between the two of them. "Then why did _you_?" He asked when his eyes landed back on Bonnie.

"Comes with the territory." She answered. "Turns out, independent study has a different meaning at my school."

"My colleagues and I sort of tricked her into the program." James admitted, noticing that the boy gasped silently. "I knew she had a little experience, but since you two rarely talked about the trip, I didn't think she'd be too interested. We were both wrong."

 _That must've been tough for Bonnie to admit_. Jeremy thought. Though that was hypocritical. Not the part about being wrong, the part about keeping quiet.

So, he stopped. "The reason we're here is that Bonnie figured you can help me."

" _Us_." Bonnie interjected. She didn't mean it in her normal know-it-all way. She was saying she still stood with him.

While James' face contorted and his eyes filled with concern, Jeremy brought the book that sat on his lap to rest on the table. It was no challenge to smuggle out of the house. His parents had seen how attached he was to the thing. He thumbed through the pages until he found the one he was looking for. A sloppy sketch a previous owner had drawn in. Hopefully it sufficed. Bonnie's hands fidgeted as she waited to hear how her brother would phrase the situation. He was able to say it to her outright. "This… _monster_ almost killed me."

James inhaled sharply. It took a second for him to respond, but his reply was unexpected. "When exactly did this happen? What time was it?"

"Why does that matter?!" Bonnie asked over the sound of her brother coughing. Her eyes were fiery, while his were brimming with tears of pain.

"Time is actually a key thing concerning alps. Seems to me that's what you have on your hands." At the word hands, Jeremy looked at his own. One of the palms was coated in saliva. Both were shaking. The others' eyes darted to him. Bonnie thought he might be getting sick again. Or worse. It seemed like the alp attack was an earthquake, and this was the aftershock.

The boy regained his bearings, but he suddenly looked tired and his mouth was dry. Somehow sensing this, his sister asked: "Do you need some water?"

Given how grave the situation was, she could see he didn't want to leave. Jeremy would be of no use in the state he was, though. He got up from the table when he realized this, as James made a comment about how there was a strange lack of cups in the hotel suite. It seemed to have everything else.

Jeremy imagined he would only make a mess trying to cup water from the tap in his shaking hands. He had a few dollars in his pocket, that seemed to end up there by accident. He hadn't planned on doing any actual shopping.

The boy exited the room in search of a vending machine.

James inhaled deeply but silently, as his eyes landed on the page the book was open to again. "Did you draw this in?" He asked Bonnie, pointing to the picture of the alp.

She shook her head. "One of my classmates." Her tone was even. By the look of her fidgeting hands, she was rattled. Her eyes said something different. She still wanted answers, even though Jeremy wasn't in the room to hear them. "So, what is it? We skipped over the chapter. We don't focus on anything that's been wiped out."

"Alps aren't completely gone." The man disputed. "In fact, I'm not sure I can argue that anything I've dealt with is."

"You've dealt with them?"

"No, but I've heard about cases. Like everything else, they've evolved. They used to have a completely different look. And they pulled harmless pranks. Things that were barely noticeable. That people would never think to blame on… some creature."

"How'd they go from being pests to being predators?" Bonnie whispered, practically spitting the words.

"They figured out how to latch on to people."

"You mean _possess them_? This one didn't care about that." It didn't want to take over a body. It wanted to make it lifeless.

That body still functioned, but it was moving at a slow pace. Jeremy felt better, but just in case another coughing fit came about he wanted to be prepared. He punched in the number for what he wanted on the keypad and watched the water bottle drop. As he reached for it, he caught a glimpse of a face in the vending machine's reflective surface,

He flinched, startled. He hadn't noticed the girl before and it seemed that she just materialized behind him.

"Sorry." She said as he turned around. She didn't look threatening. In fact, she was beautiful. (Though Jeremy had never met anyone ugly. As appearances went.) He knew that just because something looked beautiful, that didn't mean it couldn't do ugly things.

He thought he said "It's okay" while he tried to move past her as quickly as possible. He was careful in the direction he chose, passing on her left side. That way it didn't seem like he was trying to sneak past her blind spot. He _thought_ he said "It's okay", but it didn't come out that way.

The older girl's glance followed him as he retreated down the hallway back to the room. "Are you sure?" She called after him.. Jeremy turned his head slowly. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I…" He was dumbstruck by his own slip up. She waited for the end of his sentence. Her hands rested in the pockets of her striped gray sweater. Her mouth was in her straight line, and she might've seemed emotionless if not for her sad eyes. "I am." He said finally. Then he walked on.

Jeremy wasn't sure where the girl went to after getting the drink she wanted from the vending machine, but the hallway was empty after that. Except, of course, for him.

Behind the doors of the hotel suite, James and Bonnie were still discussing the alp. They had moved to a study area, where he had all his belongings (when it came to cases) in one neat pile on the desk.

"Don't you have… _bounty hunters_ for this sort of thing?" Bonnie asked while she paced the room, one arm in the air, bent at the elbow, with the back of her fanned out hand facing him to emphasize the term. James had to chuckle at the mention of it. She was pulling those words from thin air, but they were the label for something very real in the supernatural world as well.

"Yes, but we haven't needed to send anyone after an alp for decades. They're weaker now. They _need_ hosts, or else they can't survive."

"But you said they can only control people for a short amount of time each night. Until midnight."

James nodded. "I've dedicated this part of my life to studying and taking on rare cases."

Bonnie had gone from pacing to practically stamping her feet. "This _rare case_ tried to kill Jeremy. So how do I get rid of it?"

James sighed, hoping what he had to say would calm her down. "Before we can do anything, we have to figure out how it got here."

"Maybe it lost its host and was looking for a new one." Bonnie theorized. She wondered what happened to people possessed by alps after they die.

"Or maybe it never had one to begin with." James countered, seeing more frustration enter her eyes.

"You _just_ said that-"

"Every case about alps is rare." James interrupted, fully aware he was risking her wrath. "The rarest cases talk about people who are in control of what you would call the monster."

She scoffed. "And what would you call those things? Clients?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he said: "My point is, when a _monster_ is under a person's control, they need a purpose. They need direction. Otherwise they rampage." His voice lowered, but she heard him perfectly clear. "You've seen that."

Bonnie closed her eyes and exhaled for a second. She could tell that something wasn't clicking. "Okay, so… could you spell it out? You know I would." James knew if he didn't say what he was thinking, that wouldn't change the truth of what could be. He knew the truth could hurt.

"It's possible that the alp didn't have a host because… it was conjured."

Bonnie's face froze, and she had to will herself to move her mouth again. "You mean like… witchcraft." The kind of thing her Nana could do.

James nodded. " _Usually_ the clients I have that can cast spells aren't the first in the family to do so. And they're not the last. Even if they don't know what they're doing… they can do some incredible things." The man watched Bonnie's eyes glaze over. Her fists opened and her shaking hands stayed at her sides. The image of her brother's blue lips was back in her mind. Not that it had ever really left. She could see the monster that brought him to the brink of death. Thanks to James' reluctant revelation, she could see who was responsible for the monster's rampage. She couldn't believe it. And she couldn't help the cry that left her lips then.

Her voice was a wobbly whisper. "You're talking about _me_?"

James frowned, feeling sympathetic. Then he did something she wasn't expecting. He shook his head 'no'.

Jeremy got tired of standing, and let himself sink to the floor rather than sit properly. He still had half a bottle of water left, and his coughing had stopped. But he could do nothing to stop himself from feeling short of breath.

 **Thanks for reading, PLEASE REVIEW! Let me know if you have any questions/theories/ideas/corrections, or if there's anything you want me to elaborate on. I'll update ASAP! =]**


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